THE MAN WHO STAYED 
AT HOME 



THE MAN WHO 
STAYED AT HOME 

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS 

By 

J. E. HAROLD TERRY 

AND 

LECHMERE WORRALL 



Copyright, 1916, by Samuel French Ltd. 



Ne\y York 
SAMUEL FEENCH 

PUBLLSHER 

28-30 WEST 3 8th street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd 

26 Solthampton Street 

STRAND 



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THE PLAYS OF GERTRUDE JENNINGS. 

Fcur One-Act Plays. In one volume. Is. 6J. net, con- 
taining : " The Rest Cure," " Between the Soup 
and the Savoury," " The Pros and Cons," and "Acid 
Drops." 

Separately at 6d. net. 

The Rest Cure. 

Between the Soup and the Savoury. 
Acid Drops. 
Fi ve Birds in a Cage. 
The Bathroom Door. 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 



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©JI.0 


44158 


M 15 1916 




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PEOPLE OF THE PLAY 

[In order of appearance) 

John Preston, J. P. Fritz. 

Miss Myrtle. Miriam Lee 

Fraulein Schroeder. Christopher Brent. 

Percival Pennicuik. Mrs. Sanderson. 

Daphne Kidlington. Carl Sanderson. 

Molly Preston. Corporal Atkins. 

Scene. — The private sitting-room of the Proprietress of the 
" Wave Crest" Hotel, F , East Anglia. 

ACT I.— After Breakfast. 
ACT II.— After Tea. 
ACT III.— 

Scene i. — After Dinner. 
Scene 2. — Three hours later. 

The action of the play passes in fifteen hours, on a certain 
day in September, 191 4. 



The number of The Play Pictoyial dealing with " The 
Man who Stayed at Home," giving numerous illustrations 
of the scene and characters when the play was performed 
at the Royalty Theatre, London, can be obtained from The 
Play Picforial, 6, Adam Street, Strand, London, price one 
shiUing and threepence. 

A twelve-sheet poster (80 inches by 90 inches) and a double 
crown poster {30 inches by 20 inches) of the illustration 
used on the cover of this copy can be obtained from The 
Apex Press, Limited, Sicilian House, Southampton Row, 
London. The price of the twelve-sheet poster is two shil- 
lings, and of the double crown poster twopence. 

The wigs and properties Avhich are used in the perform- 
ance of " The Man who Stayed at Home " may be hired 
from Charles H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington Street, Strand- 
London, W.C. 



Produced at the Royalty Theatre, London, on December 
lo, 1014, with the following cast : — 



Christopher Brent 
Carl Sanderson 
John Preston, J. P. 
Percival Pennicuik 

Fritz 

Corporal Atkins 
Mrs. Sanderson 
Miriam Leigh 
Molly Preston . 
Miss Myrtle 
Fraulein Schroeder 
Daphne Kidlington 



Air. Dennis Eadie. 
Mr. Malcolm Cherry. 
Mr. Hubert Hcirben. 
Mr. Stanley Logan. 
Mr. E. Henry Edwards. 
Mr. Campbell Chilian. 
Mrs. Robert B rough. 
Miss Ruth MacKay. 
Miss Isobel Elsom. 
Miss Jaen Cadell. 
Miss Mary J err old. 
Aliss Elizabeth Risdon. 



And transferred to the Apollo Theatre on March 20, 19 16, 
with the following cast : — 



Cristopher Brent , 
Carl Sanderson 
John Preston, J.P. 
Percival Pennicuik 
Fritz . . . , . 
Corporal Atkins 
Mrs. Sanderson 
Miriam Leigh 
Molly Preston . 
Miss Myrtle 
Fraulein Schroeder 
Daphne Kidi.ington 



Mr. Stanley Logan, 
Mr. Frank Woolfe. 
Mr. Sydney Paxton. 
Mr. P. Perceval Clark. 
Mr. V. Tarver Penna. 
Air. Robert Taylor. 
Airs. Robert Brough. 
Aliss Ruth MacKay. 
Miss Stella Jesse. 
Miss Edith Evans. 
Aliss Esme Hubbard. 
A^iss Norah Balfour. 



The Fee for the represent ation of this play by Amateurs is 
Five Guineas, payable in advance to : — 

Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 

26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London. 

or their authorized agents, ivho will issue a written permission 
for the performance to take place. No representation may he 
given unless this written authority has first been obtained. 

In the event of more than one performance being given, the 
Fee for the second representation is Four Guineas, and for the 
third and further representations, Three Guineas. But this 
reduction only applies when the performances are consecutive 
{evening following evening, or evening following matinee) and 
at the same theatre or hall. 



"THE MAN WHO STAYED AT 
HOME" 

ACT I 

Scene. — The private sitting-room of the " Wave Crest " 
Hotel. 

The setting of this scene requires no detailed description. 
Its like must be familiar to at least fifty out of every 
hundred men and women in the country. It is the 
general rendezvous of the guests in an English sea- 
side hoarding-house , of an order sufficiently siiperiof 
to justify its assumption of the title of hotel. 

It is more or less comfortable, more or less pretentious, 
and chiefly more than less furnished on the hire 
purchase system. 

At the hack of the room is a range of wi^idows opening 
on to a verandah, from which can be obtained an 
uninterrupted and very delightful view of the sea. 
This view is apparent to the audience. 

It is a fine morning, early in September, and the sun, 
hovering above the sea, sends its beams dancing into 
the room, by way of the open ivindows. 

The curtain rises. The stage is occupied by three 
persons, John Preston, Miss Myrtle and Frau- 

LEIN ScHROEDER. 

The first of these, John Preston, is a British manu- 
facturer, undtviatingly true to type Everything 
9 



10 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

about him bespeaks the ivcU-to-do Tory, and eminently 
respectable Churchman. He is aged 56. 

Miss Myrtle is a maiden lady of uncertain age, and 
unprepossessing appearance. Her counterpart is to 
be seen in every seaside boarding-house from John 
0' Croats to Land's End, and need not be more 
minutely specified. 

Fraulein Schroeder — as her name indicates — hails 
from Germany. She has obtained her livelihood for 
the past twenty years as governess in English house- 
holds of repute, and can speak our language almost 
without suspicion of accent, save when she is abnorm- 
ally excited. She is a tall, angular, and unattractive 
spinster with a dictatorial manner and entirely un- 
sympathetic soul. She ivill certainly never see forty 
again. 

The three of them have just left the breakfast-room and 
■are absorbed in a study of their favourite newspapers. 

Preston stands before the fireplace, scanning the 
'columns of " The Times." 

Miss Myrtle has settled herself comfortably _ upon 
the chesterfield, and peruses, with studious attention, 
the social announcements in " The Morning Post." 

While Fraulein Schroeder sits stiffly erect upon the 
chair at the writing-desk, devouring, with a grim 
relish, " The Daily Mail." 

Preston grunts, Miss Myrtle sighs, Fraulein 
Schroeder clears her throat. 

Preston {glaring over the top of his paper at Frau- 
lein). Well, and what do you think of the news, 
Fraulein Schroeder ? 

Fraulein. It is sad— most sad. 

Preston. And it serves j-our country jolly well 
right !— Barbarians ! 

Miss Myrtle {bridling). My dear Mr. Preston, 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 



II 



pray remember— h'm—(c/?,' indicates Fraulein 
Schroeder)— our friend the enemy. 

Preston. I consider myself at liberty to make 
what remarks I like in an English boarding-house 

Miss Myrtle {protests). Please, Mr. Preston '_ 
not a Boarding-House— a Private Hotel. 

Preston. I, ma'am, call a spade a spade. 

Miss Myrtle (trying to he very nasty). Indeed, yes ; 
—and a table-napkin a serviette ! (She shudders ) 

Preston. You feel a draught, ma'am ? 

Miss Myrtle (icily). No— I thank you. 

(A pause.) 

Talking of draughts, Fraulein Schroeder, I mu^st 
say I felt distinctly hurt that Mrs. Sanderson shoul d 
have refused my request for a fire here last night. I 
was frozen to the marrow. 

Preston. I shouldn't have minded a bit of fire 
myself. The evenings are growing distinctly chilly. 

Fraulein. I am sure that Mrs. Sanderson had 
her reasons— and very good ones— for refusing. You 
forget. Miss I\Iyrtlc, that she offered to light you a 
fire in your bedroom. 

Miss Myrtle (distinctly huffy). And am I to b e 
expected to retire to my bedroom every time I desir e 
to get warm ? What next, I should like to know ! 

Fraulein. You must not forget that this is Mr s. 
Sanderson's private room. We use it only by he r 
courtesy. 

Preston. All that damned 

Miss Myrtle. Oh ! 

Preston (continuing). Er— pardon me— foolish 
fellow. Brent's fault— letting the bath run over. 
Never heard of such a thing. 

Fraulein. I think that Mrs. Sanderson has been 
most patient, considering the condition of our lounge 
upstairs. Have you seen the ceiling ? 

Miss Myrtle. And the carpet ! 

Preston. Most annoying— most annoying. I felt 



12 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

positively like a tripper, paddling dovv-n the passage 
in bare feet. 

Miss Myrtle. I put on my goloshes. 

Preston {moving r.c). Still, we mustn't grumble, 
(Glancing round the room.) Mrs. Sanderson's sancturh 
is a very excellent substitute for the lounge. 

[He deposits himself in the nrmclfhir ivith a sigh of 
satisfaction.) 

Fraulein. It is much more hom.e-like. 
Preston. Yes. 

{A pause — before Preston glances tip from his paper, 
crushes it in his hands — by way of giving emphasis 
to his indignation — and, springing to his feet, ex- 
claims furiously — ) 

Good heavens ! 

i^raulein and Miss Myrtle raise startled heads 
above their newspapers.) 

This is perfectly outrageous ! Here's a spy been 
caught loitering near some reservoirs, and they 
haven't shot him — haven't even imprisoned him ! 
Can you believe it possible ? They've discharged 
him with a caution ! 

{He crushes the paper into a ball and flings it with 
violence into the fireplace.) 

(Miss Myrtle rises, and, as Preston stumps across 
the room, retrieves his paper from the fireplace. She 
smooths out its crumpled pages to the best of her 
ability, folds it anew, and, in silent protest, places 
it with other papers and magazines upon the centre 
table. Preston meantime has rnoved to Fraulein, 
and is haranguing her.) 

We're a sentimental lot of idiots ! — Probably 
putting germs into the water. 

(Fraulein merely shrugs her shoulders, and turning 



The man who stayed at home. is 

to the desk proceeds to write a letter. ]\Iiss Myrtle 
endeavours to pour oil upon the troubled waters.) 

Miss Myrtle. Perhaps he was there by accident. 

Preston (snorting). Accident ! I ask you, Miss 
Myrtle, do you loiter about a public-house 

Miss Myrtle (enormously indignant). Really, Mr. 
Preston ! 

Preston. Well, well, you know what I mean — 
a public-place — by accident ? Of course he wasn't 
there by accident ! Even if he was, I wouldn't 
believe it. I wouldn't trust a German the length of 
my nose — I'd 

Miss Myrtle. I\Ir. Preston, if you will not consider 
Fraulein Schroeder's feelings, I must beg of you, at 
least, to consider mine. 

Fraulein (looking up from her letter). Please do 
not harass Mr. Preston. I do not mind his remarks 
about the war. Why should I ? Am I not natural- 
ized these twenty years ? 

Preston (returning to the charge). Exactly — ex- 
actly — and you will agree with me, ma'am, that a 
more thieving — lying ! 

Miss Myrtle. Mr. Preston, once more I must beg 
of you to remember that I have just finished my 
breakfast, and that I wish to digest it in peace. 

Preston. I ask your pardon, ma'am. I was 
unaware that you were a martyr to dyspepsia ! 

(He snatches up " The Times " again from the table, 
and sitting R. of table, buries himself behind its 
pages.) 

Miss Myrtle (too indignant for words). Oh ! 

(With a hand trembling imth indignation she shakes 
out the pages of " The Morning Post" and strives 
to forget her wrath in the absorbing interest' of its 
columns.) 

(Fraulein Schroeder, too, having sealed up her 
letter, takes up " The Daily Mail" again and the 



14 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

ghost of a smile hovers about her lips. The scene 
resumes the aspect that it had on the opening of the 
act.) 

{The brief silence that succeeds is broken by the step 
of Percival Pe5jnicuix upon the verandah, and by 
the cheery ring of his voice. Pennicuik is knoiiDn, 
wherever he is knoivn, as an " aivfuUy decent fellow." 
He is not particularly gifted in any especial direction. 
He is an average English youth, fonder of cricket 
and of football than he is of books, and he has all 
the prejtidices of his kind. He is a clean-living lad 
with a fine sense of honour,- and nearly everybody 
likes him on first sight. When the call for men was 
made he^ was one of the very first to vohtnteer, and 
this explains his curious attire — Norfolk jacket, 
khaki breeches, puttees, and abnormally thick boots. 
He ivears, too, a polo collar and an " Old Martonian " 
tie, and carries a soft felt hat in his liand. His face 
is as bronzed as that of an African Explorer, ojid lie 
is the picture of health and physical fitness.) 

{He appears at the window, and, fuiding it closed, 
taps upon the panes.) 

Preston {looking up from his newspaper). What's 
that ? 

(Pennicuik taps again. Preston looks round, sees 
Pennicuik, and going to the ivindoiv, opens it.) 

Oil, it's you, Pennicuik. 

Pennicuik. I say, can -I come in this way ? Or 
must I go round to the front door ? 

Preston {taking his arm, and bringing him down 
R.c). Come in, my boy, of course, come in. Molly 
told me we should be seeing you. {As he shakes 
liands with him.) Glad to hear 3-ou'vc put your 
services at the disposal of your country. 

Pennicuik. Well, of course, one has to do one's 
bit. 

Preston. Exactly, exactly. That's the spirit — 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 



15 



the right spint-the spirit that's animating the 
country through and through. I'm proud of you 
Pennicuik. Let s see— what's your regiment ^ " ' 
Pennicuik. 39th County of London— the Bo- 
hemians. 

Preston. Bohemians, eh ? Ah !-a craek corps ! 
What have they made you ? 

{He moves aimy i.. of Pennicuik, and regards him 
icith admiration.) 

Pennicuik. Oh. Lm only a Tommy 
Preston. And all the more credit to you Start 
at the bottom, and work your way up, that's always 
been my motto (He lavs his hand on Pennicuik's 
shotdder.) Every soldier carries a field-marshal's 
baton m his knapsack, you know. 

{A discreet cough from Miss MYRTLE-ce7/o rises, and 
comes dmvn L.c.—awakens him to the fact that he 
. has neglected to introduce Pennicuik to the assembled 
company.) 

Preston Oh, I beg your pardon— let me intro- 
duce you— Miss Myrtle, Mr. Pennicuik 

(Pennicuik crosses to her. They shake hands and 
talk together for a second, whilst Preston considers 
the manner in which he shall introduce Fr^ulein 
bCHROEDER. Finally he decides :— ) 

Miss— er— Smith, Mr. Pennicuik. 

(Fraulein rises in outraged astonishncnt , and faces 
Preston.) 

Fraulein. Smeeth ? You meestake. It is 
bchroeder, my name, Mr. Preston 

f.r^f.'^'T; ^\-~^^'> ^vel], of course, if you pre- 
fer it. But I thought that-ei-being naturalized 
and so on— you might— er 

Mr^^Pr^c^t^Jn' ^ ''"^ "^* ashamed of my ancestry, 



10 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston. No, no, of course — very right and 
proper sentiments — but — er — in the circumstances, 
I really couldn't have blamed you if you had been. 
You hear, Pennicuik, — Fraulein Schroeder. 

{He turns aicay disgustedly r., moves to the windows 
and closes them, then drops doivn l. to fireplace.) 

Fraulein {to Pennicuik). How do you do ? 
{Shaking hands with him.) You have turned soldier, 
eh ? For that I congratulate you. But why you 
not wear uniform ? 

Pennicuik. Can't get 'em. There's been such a 
rush of fellows to enlist that they can't keep pace 
with 'em at all. I don't mind. It's a good oppor- 
tunity to wear out some old clothes. 

Fraulein. But suppose the Germans get over 
here, suppose they capture you, and you have no 
uniform, what then ? — they shoot you ! 

Miss Myrtle {comes c). Ah, yes, I fear they are 
dreadfully unscrupulous. 

Pennicuik {icith ovenvhelming confidence). You've 
got to catch 3'our hare before you cook him, you 
know. The Kaiser isn't over here yet, and he's not 
likely to be — unless he comes as a prisoner. 

(Preston laughs.) 

Anyhow, Fm quite willing to take the risk. 
Fraulein {compelled to admiration albeit half 
cynical). What a spirit. 

{She returns to the desk — Warning bugle.) 

Preston. Yes, indeed ! It's the spirit ! — the 
right spirit — the spirit that's animating the country 
through and through. 

Miss Myrtle. I think 3'ou said that before. 

Preston. Quite probably I did, ma'am, and quite 
probably I shall say it again ! 

(Fraulein crosses to the chesterfwld and sits dozen.) 

Miss ]\Iyrtle. I'm afraid you will. 



THE MAN \\H() STAYED AT HOME. 17 

{She also f}ioViS up to the chesterfield, and sits down 
L, of Fraulein.) 

Preston. Sit down, my boy. sit down. 

(Pennicuik takes out a chair left of table.) 

Pennicuik. Molly said something in her letter 
about Christopher Brent being down here, too. 
Preston [grunts). Yes. 

Pennicuik {quite genuinely puzzled). Well, isn't 
he doing anything ? Taking a commission, or some- 
thing of that sort ? 

Preston. Haven't heard him say anything about 
it. 

Pennicuik. Oh — well, I expect there's some very 
good reason why he hasn't. He can't be an outsider. 
Mollv wouldn't have — {He says the next word with 
difficulty)— \iked him as she does, if he had been. 
P'raps it's his sight. He wears an eyeglass, doesn't 
he? 

Preston. Sheer affectation ! 
Fraulein. Has it not occurred to you as possible 
that ]Mr. Brent has not the brains ? 

Preston. It's never occurred to me to think of 
brains at all in connection with Brent. But what 
have brains got to do with it ? Brent's big enough 
and healthy enough— and that's all that's required of 
a soldier. 
Pennicuik {in mock protest). Oh, I say ! 
Preston. Well— er— all that would be required 
of Brent if he was a soldier ! This is the very first 
time that I've expressed my feelings upon the subject 
to anvbody— but I feel bound to say that, much as I 
like Brent in manv ways, I consider it perfectly 
abominable that a 'healthy young fellow like he is 
should not be serving his country at this crisis — 
perfectlv abominable. 

Miss' Myrtle. I entirely agree with you, Mr. 
Preston. 
Pennicuik {eager to change the subject). Oh, by- 



18 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

the-vvay, what of the new arrival ? Molly told me 
that you were expecting a merry widow to be added 
to your happy throng last night. 

Preston. Oh yes, yes. Mrs. Lee. A very charm- 
ing woman 

(^c' catches Miss Myrtle's eye.) 

so far as one can judge of her at the moment — very 
charming. Brent's monopolized her, of course. I 
left him breathing banalities to her over the mar- 
malade. 

(The sound of a bugle call, penetrating through the 

imndows, arrests Pennicuik's attention. He glances 

at his ivrist-watch , and moving up to the windoiv 
looks out of it.) 

Miss Myrtle. I must say that, seeing they met 
last night for the first time, the terms of intimacy 
upon which they appear this morning are most notice- 
able. 

Preston, Brent is certainly putting the lady in 
a most invidious position. 

Miss Myrtle. I should have thought that you 
would have known, as a man of the world, Mr. Preston, 
that if it takes two to make a quarrel, it takes two, 
also, to make — er — well, the other thing. 

Fzi^iNicinK (at the window). Oh Lord ! here comes 
Daphne Kidlington ! 

(Miss Myrtle rises, and crosses, above Pennicuik, to 

the ivindoiv.) 

Fraulein. What ? That chatter-cliatter gir 
again ! 

Preston. .Damn ! 

(He wheels his armchair round, so that he sits with his 
back to the window, and buries himself behind his 
newspaper.) 

Miss Myrtle. What an unseemly hour to make 
a call. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 19 

Pennicuik. She's after something, I'll bet my 
boots. She's not gomg to corner me this morning. 
I'm off to drill. 

(He opens the zcindows, and is about to go out, zvlien 
Preston turns, and checks him.) 

Preston. Hi ! Come back there, you young 
ruffian ! You can't ^o without saving " How de do " 
to I.lolly. 

Pennicuik. Oh, all right. [He returns reluctantly, 
and drops do'wn R. above the desk.) 

(Daphne Kidlington enters by zcay of the verandah. 
She is a gushing young person of the type that normal 
men fly front, and curates rarely escape marrying. 
She carries a small basket bristling zcitJi ivhite 
feathers.) 

Daphne {coming c). Good morning, everybody- 

(" Everybody " responds in, varying tones of unen- 
thusiasm.) 

I\Iiss Myrtle (as she closes the zcindoic). ^ly dear 
Miss Kidlington, pardon my curiosity, but what is 
it that you've got in that basket ? 

Daphne (displaying her Ziuires). Feathers — zchite 
feathers. 

Miss Myrtle. Yes, I perceive that. But what 
are they for ? 

Daphne (coming e.g."). I'm going to present one 
to every young man I meet v/ho hasn't enlisted. 

Pennicuik (grinning). Going to decorate the 
chaps who are on the front instead of at the front, eh ? 

Daphne (don'u l.). My mission is too serious to be 
treated frivolously, ^Ir. Pennicuik. 

(She turns azc^ay from him. Miss Myrtle comes to 
fop of table c. Daphne proceeds to dig Preston 
out from behind his nezc'spaper.) 
Oh, there you are, Mr. Preston. I just looked in 

to see if Molly woulci come with me. 



20 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

(Preston rises, and returns, with emphasis — ) 
Preston. Certainly not. 

{He pushes his chair up stage and stands before the 
fireplace.) 

Daphne {in tones of amazement). Certainly not ! 
I thought 3^ou were a patriot. 

Preston. So I am, but — er 

Miss Myrtle {at c). You'd better be careful, 
Mr. Preston. 

Daphne. Oh, of course, if you don't wish her to 
go, there's nothing further to be said. 

{She turns away petulantly, and moves up above the 
table to L. of Miss Myrtle.) 

Preston. Exactly. 

{Warning clock strikes.) 

Daphne. Does anybody happen to know if Mrs. 
Sanderson's son has enlisted ? 

Fraulein {still on the chesterfield). He has not. 
Carl has no occasion. 

Preston. My dear girl, don't you make a bloomer 
over young Sanderson ! He's in the Admiralty ! 

Daphne. How stupid of me. I remember now, 
of course — {to Fraulein) — but we see so little of 
him. 

Miss Myrtle {dropping down r. of table to Penni- 
cuik). He's down for the week-end — such a nice, 
quiet young man ; and he holds quite a responsible 
position. 

Pennicuik. Deputy transport clerk, isn't he ? 
— been up to his neck in work lately, Fll bet. 

Daphne {moving down again to Preston). What 
about Mr. Brent ? Of course he's going to join 
something. 

Preston {uncomfortably). H'm— er — I don't think 
he's definitely decided at present — but I shouldn't 
be too hasty. Miss Kidlington. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 21 

(Pennicuik crosses up to window. He, also, is none 
too comfortable.) 

Pennicuik. I say, do you think Moliy'll be much 
longer ? I really must hook it in a second. 

Preston {consulting his watch). No, I can't think 
why she isn't back now. She's only gone to the 
post-office to send a telegram. 

Pennicuik {coming down r.). All right, I'll wait 
another five minutes. That'll just givQ me time to 
get to the parade ground. Are you coming dovm 
later to have a look at us ? Molly's promised to 
inspect the battalion this morning. 
Preston. Then I'll come with her. 

{He crosses c. to Pennicuik.) 

Pennicuik. Good ! 

Daphne {crossing to fireplace). Such dear, nice 
boys they are ! 

Pennicuik. You mustn't be too critical of our 
marching. Most of us belong to the sore-foot brigade 
at present. 

Preston. I expect so — poor fellows ! 

Miss Myrtle {doim r.). I have heard, Mr. Penni- 
cuik, that an excellent remedy is to pickle the feet 
in a strong solution of salt. 

Pennicuik. By Jove, that's an idea ! That'd 
make us real hot stuff— a sort of Chutney Brigade ! 

(Pennicuik laughs, and so does everybody else, with 
the single exception of Miss Myrtle. 

{The clock in the hall strikes the half-hour.) 
(Preston takes Pennicuik up r. to window.) 
{Enter Fritz, a short and thick-set man of Teutonic 
appearance. He wears the soiled evening dress suit 
which has become the livery of the waiter, and speaks 
with a distinct German accent.) 

Fritz (r. of door. To Fraulein). Madam sent 



.22 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

her compliments, Fraulcin, and vould like to see if 
you could shpeak mit her. 
Fraulein {rising). I will come immediately. 

(She goes out. Fritz is about to follow her when 
Preston turns from the window, and addresses him.) 

Preston. Oh, by the way, Fritz, you might take 
my brown boots into my bedroom, will you ? 
Fritz. Certainly, sare. 

{He goes out.) 

Daphne {at fireplace). I suppose Fritz has re- 
gistered ? 

Preston {coming r.c). Dear me, no — there's no 
necessity. He's Dutch. 

Miss Myrtle. And naturalized — a most loyal 
young man — only yesterday I heard him whistling 
the Marseillaise. 

{She pronounces it " Marsirlays.") 

Daphne {pondering). H'm — then why hasn't he 
enlisted ? 

Preston {impatiently). And who's going to 
attend to this place if he does ? A little discrimina- 
tion, my dear young lady, a little discrimination. 

{He turns hack to the windows and looks out of them.) 

Ah, there's Molly — {He opens the windows) — been 
staying to feed the pigeons, I expect. 

Daphne {sitting in the armchair l.). What a good 
thing Mrs. Sanderson's English. 

Miss Myrtle. Why ? 

Daphne. They'd be certain to confiscate her 
pigeons if she wasn't. 

Miss Myrtle. Oh !— and she's so devoted to 
them ! 

Preston {turning from the windows, and coming 
R.c). H'm ! Makes excellent pies of 'em, I must 
say. Come along, Molly. 



THE MAN AVHO STAYED AT HOME. 23 

(Molly enters. She is a fresh and charming girl, 
high-spirited and full of fun, and very good indeed 
to look upon. She is just twenty-one, and having 
been taught from earliest youth to regard her father 
as infallible, finds it very difficult ever to go against 
his ruling.) 

(Preston closes the windows behind her.) 

Molly {seeing Pennicuik and coming immediately 
down R. to him — with enthusiasm). Hullo, Percy ! 
It is nice to see you — and how fit you're looking. 
Oh — but what a disappointment — you're not in uni- 
form. 

Preston (coming c. above table). Never mind, 
Moll3^ It's not the coat that makes the man. It's 
— er — it 's — er 

(He hesitates.) 

Pennicuik (coming to the rescue). The puttees, eh ? 

Daphne (moving c. below table — in much aggrieved 
tones). Good morning, Molly. 

Molly (coming up to her). Oh, good morning, 
Daphne. I was so excited at seeing Percy that I 
never noticed you. 

Daphne. You've been a long time feeding the 
pigeons, 

Molly. I haven't, I daren't. Fritz is so careful 
of them that nobody is allowed to feed them but him- 
self. (Her eye falls on Daphne's basket.) Gracious 
me ! What on earth are the feathers for ? 

Daphne. I'm going recruiting on the front. 
Every young and able-bodied man who hasn't — 
gets one ! 

Molly. How very foolish of 3'ou, Daphne ! 

Daphne (amazed). Foolish ? 

Molly. And cruel — and impertinent ! 

(She turns to Pennicuik. They go up to the window.) 
Daphne (aghast). Really ! 



24 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT I£OME. 

Preston (at fire). I entirely agree with you. my 
dear. 

Daphne {going tip to him). I feel it to be my duty, 
and I shall do it. {She turns azcay c.) More than 
half the girls in the Tennis Club have decided to do 
exactly the same thing ! 

Preston. Ten fools won't make one wise woman ! 
There are many other ways, Miss Kidlington. in 
which you and your friends could be more profitably 
employed. 

Miss Myrtle. Knitting comforters, for instance. 

Preston. Precisely. 

Daphne {as she comes up to him. Half cyying). 
I'm very sorry I came here this morning. I think 
you're all very unsympathetic and very rude. But 
at least /'w not a coward — I've made up my mind to 
do this, and do it I shall ! 

{At this psychological moment, Christopher Brent's 
voice is heard otitside. A gleam of satisfaction comes 
into Daphne's eye.) 

Brent {off stage). I expect we shall find them all 
in here. 

Daphne. Ah ! 

{She moves towards the door as Christopher Brent 
enters the room, preceded by ^Iiriam Lee.) 

(Brent is a clean-shaven, eye-glassed man of thirty- 
two or three. In ordinary conversation lie affects 
the languid draid that is popularly associated ivith 
a monocle, but this lie uses solely as a mask, and 
u'hen occasion offers for him to be his statural self 
he discards the pose entirely.) 

{Miriam Lee, icidoiced before she was thirty, is a 
woman of the icorld, whose great charm arises from 
her gift of ready and genuine sympathy. She has 
suffered much, and can understand much. She is 
still quite young — not more than thirty-five — and 
pretty enough to be a fonnidable rival even to the 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 25 

most attractive of debutantes. She is very quiet 
and undemonstrative in manner — and speaks always 
in a low and heaiitiJ'uUy modulated voice. Brent 
holds the door open for her. She crosses to Molly 
and is duly introduced to Pennycuik.) 

Brent [very cheerily). Hello, everybody ! By 
Jove, 1 say, isn't it a jolly mornin' for the war, what ? 
Hello, Miss Kidlin'ton, how are you ? Still bearin' 
up, eh ? 

{His eye lights on Pennicitk. They shake hands and 
go down R.c. heloio table.) 

Ah, there's the General. Didn't notice you come 
smartly to attention when I entered, me lad ; still, 
we'll overlook it this time. Well, how are things 
going with you ? Fat old sergeants still daitmin' 
your eyes, and castin' nasturtiums on your paternity, 
or are we now a corporal and immune ? 

Pennicitk. Oh, Lord, no, I shan't get my stripes 
for ages. 

Brent. Except those of affliction, eh ? 

{He laughs and turns away c.) 

(Daphne Kidlington stands by Jiis elbow, and thrusts 
her basket of feathers almost immediately beneath his 
nose. An atmosphere of acute discomfort over- 
spreads the room.) 

{As Daphne comes c. Molly crosses down to Preston 
at fire.) 

Brent. By Jove, what a jolly lot of little pipe- 
cleaners ! 

(Pennicitk laughs.) 

Daphne. Mr. Brent. I have a serious question to 
ask you. 

Brent. Not really ? 

Molly {coming to Daphne ami laying a restraining 
hand on her aym). Daphne ! How can you ? — 
now ! 



26 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent. Oh, don't stop her — please ! Miss Kid- 
lin'ton looks so — so awfully jolly when she's serious. 

Daphne. Mr. Brent, have you enhsted ? 

Brent. No ! 

Daphne. Are you going to ? 

Brent. No — can't say I am, or can, for the 
matter of that. 

Daphne (d yawing a feather from the basket). Then 

{There is a general movement of disgust from all.) 

Molly. Daphne ! 

(She does her best to prevent what follows.) 

Brent (taking the feather). Oh, please don't 
worry, Miss Preston, it's only a feather ! 

(Molly turns back to her father.) 

Daphne. Only a feather, as you say, Mr. Brent ; 
but please notice the colour. 

(Another general movement from all.) 

Brent. Oh ! the colour don't matter at all. 
Thanks awfully, all the same. (He pulls a pipe 
from his pocket.) I've been looking for one of these 
little fellows all the morning. (He thrusts the feather 
through the stem.) By Jove, that's top hole. Tell 
you what, Miss Kidlington, I'll bid you a sovereign 
for the lot, and you can give it to — to the Prince of 
Wales' Fund or whatever you like. Is it a bargain ? 

Daphne (striving hard to look and to feel dignified). 
Mr. Brent, you don't know me. 

Brent. My dear young lady, if you're not jolly 
careful, I'm afraid you'll soon find that nobody 
knows you. 

(He moves over to the desk, and drops the feather in 
the waste-paper basket beside it.) 

(Molly moves up stage to the door.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 27 

(A strained silence succeeds, broken at length by 
Pennicuik.) 

Pennicuik {flinging out of the room). Well, so 
long, everybody. {As he passes Molly.) Expect 
you on the parade-ground in half an hour. 

Molly {keeping her eye on Daphne). All right. 

(Pennicuik goes out, and Daphne tiirns to Preston, 
who avoids meeting her eye.) 

Preston. Well, I want a walk. I'll just go and 
put on my boots. 

{He follows Pennicuik hastily.) 

(Daphne moves up to Miss Myrtle, who pretends to be 
too engaged in searching through her work-basket 
to notice her.) 

(Daphne pauses irresolutely for a moment, then goes 
to the door, hesitates, and eventually turns to Brent.) 

Daphne {defiant, if horribly uncomfortable). I hope 
you understand, Mr. Brent, that I've only done 
what I feel to be my duty. 

Molly {in a furious aside to her as she holds open 
the door). For Heaven's sake, stop making a fool of 
yourself, and go ! 

Daphne. Oh, of course, if I'm not wanted ! 

Molly. You're not. 

Daphne. Oh ! 

{She, too, flings out in a tantrum, taking he%, feathers 
with her.) 

Brent {still busily engaged in loading his pipe). 
What a jolly time all the fellows are going to have on 
the beach ! 

{He crosses to below the table.) 

Molly {as she closes the door with a vicious snap). 
Vulgar little beast ! - 

(Miss Myrtle rises, and moves to l. of table,) 



28 THE MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miss Myrtle {with a certain hesitation). Mr. Brent, 

it has been most painful to me to witness your ordeal. 

Brent (seemingly entirely unmoved). ]\Iy dear 

lad}', when 3^our pipe won't draw — take my tip — 

use a feather. It's a godsend ! (He crosses L.) 

Miss Myrtle (icily as she draws herself tip). H'm 
— yes — I suppose so. (She moves np to the door, 
then turns.) At the same time I trust that the sym- 
bolic significance of the token will not escape you. 

{She exits after the manner of an indignant turkey.) 

Brent (with exaggerated drawl, as he blozcs down 
the stem of his pipe). By Jove, that's a nasty one, 
isn't it ? 

Molly (dropping down to top of table). Christopher, 
how can you ? 

Brent. How can I what, little woman ? 

Molly. Take it lying down ! 

(Brent merely shrugs his shoulders and Miriam 
replies — ) 

Miriam (coming r.c). Surely, Miss Preston, such 
blatant ill-breeding is beneath contempt ? 

Molly (very near to tears). Yes, I know — only — 
only 

(Her lip trembles. The tears will no longer be denied 
She turns and goes hurriedly from the room.) 

(Miriam follows her to the door and closes it after 
her.) 

Brent (at fireplace. To Miriam). I say, do you 
think I 'd better go after her ? (He lays his pipe unlit 
upon the mantelshelf.) 

Miriam (down to r. of table). No, I should leave 
her to herself for a minute or two. Let her have her 
cry out. She'll feel all the better for it. rj 

(She puts her bag on the table.) 

Brent. Poor little kid ! That's the one rotten 



THE MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 29 

part of all this business. It's such jolly hard lines 
on her. 

Miriam. You're not engaged, are you ? 

Brent. Not officially.- The old man doesn't 
exactly cotton to the idea ; but it's an understood 
thing none the less. 

Miriam {coming below table to c). Have you 
counted the cost ? It's going to be terribly hard 
for both of you. 

Brent (shortly). I know. 

(He drops into the armchair l.) 

Miriam (moving over to r. of him). What's going 
to happen when she comes up against this part of 
your life — this vital part of it — that must always 
remain to her a sealed book ? 

Brent (with exasperated impatience). Oh ! " Suffi- 
cient unto the day ! " 

Miriam (slowly and with emphasis). Poor girl — 
and poor you ! 

Brent (rising with one foot on the fender-stool). 
Oh, do stop croaking — there's a dear woman ! I'm 
not in the mood for it. 

Miriam. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to croak. 
But — well, you know. Kit, just how fond I am of 
you, and I can't bear the thought of things going 
wrong with you. (She crosses in front of table.) 
If you knew how my blood boiled just now when 
that — that creature insulted you ! I could have 
killed her — gladly. You were perfectly splendid, 
but I could see how it hurt you — hurt you just as 
deeply as it hurt that poor little girl. And you were 
powerless to justify yourself. Oh, it was hard — 
cruelly hard ! (At c.) 

Bre-^t (turning to her — with difficulty). It's jolly 
nice of you to say 'that, Miriam — and I appreciate 
it. But I've got nothing to grouse about it. It's 
all in the day's work. I knew what I was in for when 
I took this thing on, and I've got to see it through. 



30 THE MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

(.4 pause. Brent crosses to hey c.) 

But I say, look here, we mustn't chatter any more 
about ourselves. We must get to work at once. 
Have you got those particulars I wired to you for ? 
Miriam. Yes, they're here. 

{She opens her bag which is upon the table, and takes 
some papers from it. These she gives to Brent. 
Then, leaving her bag where it is, she seats herself r. 
of table.) 

Brent. Good ! 

{He crosses over to the fireplace, glancing through the 
papers, then a sudden thought strikes him, and 
he comes back to Miriam.) 

By the way, nobody has the least idea that we've 
met before, and — of course, they mustn't have. 

Miriam {witli a smile as if the caution ivere unneces- 
sary). This isn't the first time that we've worked 
together, Kit. 

Brent. No, and I jollv well hope it won't be the 
last. 

(Brent sits l. of table, and a pause ensues, whilst he 
examines the decuments that Miriam has given to 
him. Siiddenly he looks up from them with an 
exclamation.) 

Brent. By Jove, but this is interesting — widow 
of the late General von Mantel, eh ? {Meditatively.) 
Von Mantel ? Wasn't he the chap who wrote that 
book in defence of spies ? 

Miriam. That's the man. He was the greatest 
German expert in the art of espionage ; and main- 
tained that the end justified any means employed. 

Brent. H'm ! So it's his widow we're up against, 
are we ? She oughtn't to be any fool at the game. 

Miriam. I don't expect she is. 

Brent. I vv^onder how she got hold of her second 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 31 

husband — Sanderson. She's German herself, isn't 
she ? 

Miriam. Very much so. She was born in Dresden. 

Brent. Well, anyhow — poor devil !— he didn't 
endure her long. By the way, when were they 
married ? {Consults the paper.) August '97. Then 
that chap, Carl, must be von Mantel's son — and not 
Sanderson at all. (He whistles and, rising, crosses 
to the fireplace.) Phew ! This grows exciting. 

(.4 pause.) 

What about the waiter, Fritz ? 

Miriam. I couldn't discover much about him. He 
appears to be Dutch all right, and naturalized — but, 
of course, it's more than probable that he is in their 
pay. 

(Another pause. ) 

Brent. Yes. (He paces from l. to c. and back.) 
Fraulein Schroeder of course doesn't require much 
explanation. 

Miriam. She's just one of a thousand — has lived 
in this country for twenty years or more, and been 
employed as governess in a dozen of our most 
exclusive households. Her references are quite 
exceptional. 

Brent (atL.c. looking out of icindoiv) . They always 
are. 

(.4 pause before Brent inquires suddenly — ) 

I say, do you prefer pigeons stewed, or in a pie ? 

Miria^i (stares at him in blank amazement, then 
laughs). My dear man, what on earth has that got 
to do with Fraulein Schroeder ? 

Brent. More than meets the eye. Pigeons 
figure almost daily on the menu of this select estab- 
lishment. Do you know anything about them ? 

Miriam. About pigeons ? 

Brent. Yes. 



32 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miriam. A little. My brother used to show them. 
He won quite a lot of cups. 

Brent. Stout fellow ! {He crosses above table 
to window.) Just come here a minute, will you, 
Miriam ? You'll probably be able to tell me what 
kind of pigeons those are on the lawn there. 

Miriam (joining him at the window, i.. of him and 
above him.) Oh, there are all sorts — mostly tumblers. 

Brent. Any carriers amongst 'em ? 

Miriam. Yes. {Pointing through window with l. 
hand.) That's a carrier over there — that dark- 
coloured bird in the corner by himself. You can 
always tell a carrier by the white rim round his eye. 

{She crosses to L. and sits herself upon the Chester- 
field.) 

Brent. Can you indeed ? That's jolly interest- 
ing. I shall have to get you to give me some lessons 
in pigeonology — or whatever you call it. . . . Tell 
me, could you fetch one do\\Ti with an airgun ? 

Miriam. I don't know. Why ? 

Brent. Well, I'm rather a crack shot with an 
airgun. Always travel one. 

{He walks over to a corner in which is propped what is, 
to all intents and purposes, a walking-stick. In 
reality it is an airgun disguised. He removes the 
ferrule — thus disclosing the mouth of the barrel, and 
opens the breach which is situated immediately 
below the silver band ornamenting the " stick." 

Here's my pet possession. Clever, isn't it ? 

Miriam. I've tumbled at last, Kit — sorry to be 
so dense. 

Brent. That's all right — but just keep an ob- 
servant eye upon those little dicky-birds. {He puts 
the gun back in the corner.) They've really got most 
entertaining habits. 

Miriam. I'll make a special study of them — 
starting at once. {She turns as if to go.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 33 

Brent. By the way, my man met you at the 
station, didn't he ? 

Miriam. Yes. 

Brent. Well, didn't he give you something to 
bring down for me ? 

Miriam. Oh, yes — I forgot — a book. 

{She drops down L. side of table.) 
(Brent drops down r. of table.) 

(Miriam ope^ts her bag and takes from it a small book 
which she hands to him.) 

Miriam. That's it. 

Brent. Yes, that's it. 

Miriam {below table). What is it ? 

(Brent sits on the table, and glances round cautiously 
before replying.) 

Brent. A complete key to all the codes used by 
German spies in their various methods of com- 
munication. 

Miriam. How on earth did you get hold of it ? 

Brent. That's rather too long a story to tell 
you just now. But I assure you that the Kaiser's 
Intelligence Department didn't make me a present 
of it. ' 

{He crosses to the desk, turning over the pages of the 
book as he goes. Miriam turns up stage l.) 

Miriam. I shall never rest content until you've 
told me the whole history of it. {She breaks off and 
listens.) Isn't that somebody coming ? 

Brent. If it's Molly, leave us together for a 
minute, will you? But come back later. I'll look 
cut for ycu in about a quarter of an hour. 

{He strolls back to L. of table and sits.) 

(Miriam nods acquiescence, and is about to go out 
by the window when Molly enters by the door.) 

Molly. Are you going out, Mrs. Lee ? 



36 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Molly. No. 

Brent. Well, you see, the fact is, I've trotted 
about such a lot that all places seem much of a 
muchness to me. 

Molly. What were you doing in South Africa ? 

Brent. What was I doing in South Africa ? 
Let's see — oh yes, I rcmamber. I went out there 
with another fellow who had some rotten scheme 
about diamonds. It never came off, so — {lamely) — 
I came back. 

(Molly looks at him douhtingly. She moves slowly 
to the wmdow, and watches Mrs. Lee's retreating 
figiive.) 

Molly {meditatively). She's very fascinating. 
Brent. Who is ? 
Molly. Mrs. Lee. 
Brent. Oh, yes — rather. 

(Molly iurns aside from the window, and comes c. 
above the table.) 

Molly. Arc you coming out this morning ? 
(Brent rises, and takes a step up stage towards her) 

Brent. Yes, but I'll meet you later on, if I may. 
There are one or two little things I must attend to, 
and 

Molly {disappointedly, as she moves towards the 
door). Oh, very well. 

{She lingers, holding the handle of the door. Brent 
is kneeling on top end of the Chesterfield facing her. 
He speaks wistfully.) 

Brent. I say, Molly, you aren't awfully sick with 
me, are you ? 

Molly {sighing). Oh, I don't know, I (She 

makes a gesture of indecisign.) Anyway, I suppose 
you'll play tennis after lunch. 

{She goes out.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 37 

(Brent watches her out, sighs deeply, and turns, with 
wrinkled brow, to take his pipe from the mantel- 
shelf. He puts the pipe into his mouth, draws a 
box of matches from his pocket and has just struck a 
light when Fritz enters.) 

Fritz (at c. above table). Excuse me, sare, but do 
you happen to know vere Mistaire Preston ees ? 
Somebody vont him on de delephone. 

Brent {sitting on the fire-stool, as he lights his pipe.) 
He went upstairs to put his boots on about ten 
minutes ago. 

Fritz. Thank you, sare. 

{He is just about to go when he observes Brent fling 
his still lighted match into the grate. With a smothered 
" Mein Gott " he runs to the fireplace, pushes Brent 
aside in his anxiety to snatch the match from the 
coals.) 

Brent {at c. belcw table). Here, I say, what the 
devil are you doin', Fritz ? You're not feehn' 
suddenly unwell, are you ? 

(Fritz kneels on the fire-stool, and beats out the fi^ame 
with his hands. He gives a sigh of relief as he 
extinguishes it.) 

Fritz. Ah ! Dot vos ein narrow squveak ! 

Brent. What the blazes are you talkin' about ? 
What was a narrow squeak ? 

Fritz. De fire ! {He rises.) You nearly light 
him ! 

Brent. Well, what about it ? I don't see that 
there's anythin' to get so — so agitato about. You 
know, Fritz, you really must learn to control yourself. 
It's not only bad for the nerves — all this undue 
excitement — it's such rotten bad form. It isn't 
done, you know. 

Fritz But madam — she never permit dis fire 
to be light ! 



36 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Molly. No. 

Brent. Well, you see, the fact is, I've trotted 
about such a lot that all places seem much of a 
muchness to me. 

Molly. What were you doing in South Africa ? 

Brent. What was L doing in South Africa ? 
Let's see — oh yes, I rcmGimber. I went out there 
with another fellow who had some rotten scheme 
about diamonds. It never carne off, so — (lamely) — 
I came back. 

(Molly looks at him doubtingly. She moves slowly 
to the window, and watches Mrs. Lee's retreating 
figure.) 

Molly (meditatively). She's very fascinating. 
Brent. Who is ? 
Molly. Mrs. Lee. 
Brent. Oh, yes — rather. 

(Molly turns aside from the window, and comes c. 
above the table.) 

Molly. Are you coming out this morning ? 
(Brent rises, and takes a step up stage towards her) 

Brent. Yes, but I'll meet you later on, if I may. 
There are one or two little things I must attend to, 
and— — 

Molly (disappointedly, as she moves towards the 
door). Oh, very well. 

{She lingers, holding the handle of the door. Brent 
is kneeling on top end of the Chesterfield facing her. 
He speaks wistfully.) 

Brent. I say, Molly, you aren't awfully sick with 
me, are you ? 

Molly (sighing). Oh, I don't know, I {She 

makes a gesture of indecision.) Anyway, I suppose 
you'll play tennis after lunch. 

(She goes out.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 37 

(Brent watches her out, sighs deeply, and turns, with 
wrinkled brow, to take his .pipe from the mantel- 
shelf. He puts the pipe into his mouth, draws a 
box of matches from his pocket and has just struck a 
light when Ffitz enters.) 

Fritz {at c. above table). Excuse me, sare, but do 
you happen to know vere Mistaire Preston ees ? 
Somebody vont him on de delephone. 

Brent {sitting on the fire-stool, as he lights his pipe.) 
He went upstairs to put his boots on about ten 
minutes ago. 

Fritz. Thank you, sare. 

{He is just about to go when he observes Brent fiing 
his still lighted match into the grate. With a smothered 
" Mei7i Gott " he runs to the fireplace, pushes Brent 
aside in his anxiety to snatch the match from the 
coals.) 

Brent {at c. belcw table). Here, I say, what the 
devil are you doin', Fritz ? You're not feehn' 
suddenly unwell, are you ? 

(Fritz kneels on the fire-stool, and beats out the flame 
with his hands. He gives a sigh of relief as he 
extinguishes it.) 

Fritz. Ah ! Dot vos ein narrow squveak ! 

Brent. What the blazes are you talkin' about ? 
What was a narrow squeak ? 

Fritz. De fire ! {He rises.) You nearly light 
him ! 

Brent. Well, what about it ? I don't see that 
there's any thin' to get so — so agitato about. You 
know, Fritz, you really must learn to control yourself. 
It's not only bad for the nerves— all this undue 
excitement — it's such rotten bad form. It isn't 
done, you know. 

Fritz But madam— she never permit dis fire 
to be light ! 



38 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent. Then what on earth's the point of havin* 
it laid ? 
Fritz. I cannot tell you, sare. 

{Voices are heard off.) 

Dat is madam coming. (He moves to the door.) 
Perhaps she will^ herself explain. 

(Brent strolls across the stage. He is thinking furi- 
ously. Fritz stands in the doorway, keeping a 
watchful eye upon him.) 

Dere is nodings more dat you re(juire, sare ? 

Brent (crossing to the table and from there to the 
fireplace). No, nothing, thank you. You toddle 
off and find Mr. Preston. 

Fritz. Very good, sare. 

(He goes out unwillingly.) 

(Brent scratches his chin thoughtfully, as he peers 
into the grate. He is clearly puzzled. He speaks his 
thoughts aloud.) 

Brent ("^otto voce). That's funny — dam' funny ! 

(Mrs. Sanderson, followed by her son Carl, enters 
by the window. She is a middle-aged woman, 
well-built and imposing, but with nothing in her 
manner or appearance that might suggest that she 
is anything other than that she passes for — the 
English proprietress of an English boarding-house.) 

(Carl Sanderson is as little likely to be suspected 
of foreign origin or foreign sympathies as his mother. 
He is tall and slight — not more than twenty-eight or 
twenty-nine at most — and his manners, if a trifle 
off-hand, are none the less quite delightful. 

Mrs. Sanderson (coming down r. of table to desk). 
Ah, Mr. Brent, I don't think you've met my son, 
have you ? 

Brent. No, I haven't had that pleasure. (To 
Carl.) Dehghted to meet you. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 39 

Carl {drops down l. of table — gravely, as they shake 
hands.) And I, you. 

Brent. Down for long ? 

Carl. Only the week-end. My chief can't spare 
me for longer. We're most frightfully busy at the 
Admiralty. 

Brent. Oh, yes, of course. I forgot you'd a 
billet there. 

(Mrs. Sanderson, who is running through some letters 
in her desk, turns to Brent.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. In the transport department. 

Brent. Ah ! Then you're the very man I wanted 
to see. 

Carl {smiling) . Oh — why ? 

Brent. You can really tell us the truth about 
those Russians. 

Carl {with broader smile). Perhaps — perhaps not ! 

Brent. Ah ! Then perhaps I can tell you some- 
thing. You know I have an aunt at Leamington 
— awfully jolly old lady. Her housemaid's young 
man works somewhere near the railway. Well, 
he has a pall whose greatest friend actually works on 
the railway, and, although he didn't exactly see 
them himself, he told my aunt's housemaid's young 
man that a very honest young chap, a friend of his 
— in the Salvation Army — had actually seen them. ! 

Mrs. Sanderson {laughing). That proves it. 

Brent {to Carl). What do you think ? 

Carl. Shall I tell you the truth ? 

Brent. I wish you would. It's all very worrying, 
vou know. 

Carl. Well, they didn't— not a solitary Russian ! 

Brent. By Jove, I say, that is a blow ! I don't 
know whatever my aunt will say when I tell her. 
She'll be most awfully upset. I feel quite bowled 
over myself. It's a nasty jar ! I think, if you'll 
excuse me, I'll just go and send my aunt a telegram. 



40 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT , HOME. 

{He moves towards the door — to Carl.) We'll have 
another little chat about things later on, I hope. 

(He goes out, taking his air gun with him.) 

Carl (crossing to fireplace). He's a particular sort 
of idiot. 

Mrs. Sanderson (moving c. below table). Yes, 
" a particular sort of idiot " ; but even his particular 
sort of idiot has potentialities in England. 

Carl (leaning on the mantel, with one foot on the 
fire-stool). Yes ; they're a wonderful race. . . . 
You know, mater, sometimes I find it almost impos- 
sible to believe that I'm a German. 

Mrs. Sanderson (proudly, as she crosses l.c). 
But you are, my son, and one day you will be a great 
German, as your father was. 

Carl. H'm ! — Perhaps ! 

Mrs. Sanderson (disturbed by his cynical tone). 
Carl ! . . . What do you mean ? 

(Carl lays a reassuring hand upon her arm, but ignores 
her question.) 

Carl. Did Fritz get all the despatches through ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes, all. The fishing-fleet 
took them. 

Carl. Good. How many of the Potsdam carriers 
has he left ? 

Mrs. Sanderson (sitting l. of table). Two ; but 
one of them's hurt its wing, so the other mustn't be 
used excepting on a matter of the first importance. 

Carl (moving up to her). Would you call a map 
of the Enghsh mine-field " of the first importance " ? 

Mrs. Sanderson (greatly elated and excited). My 
son ! How did you get it ? 

Carl (nonchalantly, as he takes a paper from his 
pocket-book and hands it to his mother). Stayed in 
one lunch-time — tracing — ^nothing easier. 

(Mrs. Sanderson rises. A great pride shines from 
her eyes, and rings in her voice.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 41 

Mrs. Sanderson. My son, you have rendered 
your Imperial Master signal service. I am proud 
of you. {She takes his head between her hands and 
kisses him upon the forehead.) 

{A brief pause cfisues, the nvhile she masters her emo- 
tion. Then she sits down again, and puts the map that 
he has given her into her bag.) 

And now tell me, what about these troops from the 
North ? That is the great question at the moment. 
Are they coming through ? 

{Her inquiry seems to trouble Carl. He paces, 
restlessly, up and down L. of stage.) 

Carl. From what I can make out there seems to 
be no doubt that they're on their way. 

Mrs. Sanderson {amazed by his uncertainty). 
Surely you know ? 

Carl. That's just it — I don't. My department 
hasn't touched them. I've done my best, but I can't 
find out for certain. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But they're relying on us for 
confirmation. What are we to do? 

Carl. I've left instructions with Gluckmann 
that he's to let us have a message here between 
ten and eleven this morning. {He consults his 
watch.) It's close on ten now. 

Mrs. Sanderson. How's he going to communi- 
cate ? 

Carl. Marconi of course. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But supposing people are 
about ? 

Carl {impatiently). They mustn't be. 

(Mrs. Sanderson looks up in amazement at the 
briisqueness of his tone. Carl observes that it has 
disturbed her, and, takins her hand, continues 
more gently — ) 

This is your private room, mother. I shall rely on 
you to have the field clear for me in half an hour. 



42 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

{He moves c. above table, and through the window 
observes Brent returning.) 

Oh, Lord, here's the particular idiot back again ! 
Mrs. Sanderson {crossing to the bookcase l.). Well, 
I must leave him to you, dear. I want to take this 
book back to the librarj^. {At the door.) I shan't be 
long. 

(Brent enters by the window, pipe in mouth. He 
carries his air gun.) 

Brent. Ah ! Well, I've done it. I've sent her 
a wire. Poor old auntie ! — that'll take away her 
appetite for lunch. 

He chuckles foolishly as he opens the breech of his 
airgun. The " click " that it makes draws Carl's 
attention to it. 

Carl. What's the matter ? Broken your stick ? 

Brent. No. Haven't you seen one of these 
before? {He shows Carl the mechanism). Neat, 
isn't it ? 

Carl. An airgun, eh ? That's an ingenious toy. 

Brent. Yes, it's the very latest — but it's no use 
to me. I can't hit a haystack with it. I've been 
pottin' at a sittin' sparrov/ in the garden for the last 
five minutes and the little beggar didn't so much as 
bother to look up from his luncheon ! You know^ I 
mayn't look it, but I'm a perfect fool at some things 

{He drops down stage R. Carl moves to the door.) 
Carl. Oh, don't say that. 

{He turns the handle of the door, and Brent, who is) 
standing by the desk with his back to him, wheels 
round at the sound.) 

Brent. I say, you're not goin' too, are you ? 

Carl. I'm afraid I must. I've brought some 
work down with me that I must get through this 
morning. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 43 

Brent {crossing to the fireplace). Oh, I say, now, 
that really is a pity. There were such a lot of things 
I wanted to ask you about — mines, and those nippy 
little devils — what d'you call 'em ? — submarines — 
and all that sort o' thing, 3'ou know. 

Carl (quite gravely) . I shall be delighted to place 
myself at your disposal later m the day. 

Brent. You will ? Good man. Then that's a 
bargain. I hope I shan't bore you most frightfully 
with all my questions. 

{He bends down and knocks the ashes out of his pipe 
against a tile of the grate just above the hearth.) 

Carl {looking at him rather strangely). Not at all' 
I only hope that I may be able to answer them- 
Au re voir, Mr. Brent. 

Brent {assuming an upright position again.) So 
,ong — and thanks awfully. 

(Carl o-ofs out.) 

(Brent stands thoughtfully rubbing the mouthpiec^ 
of his pipe across his teeth. Then he blows down r 
and finds it choked. Again he knocks the bow 
against the tiling of the grate, but this time much 
nearer the mantelpiece. The blow sounds hollow. 
He looks up quickly, surprised. He bends down, 
taps the lower tile that he first struck. The sound 
is " solid." Then he again taps the upper tile, and 
the difference — the " hollowness " is most marked. 
He whistles " phew f " puts his pipe in his pocket, 
takes a box of wooden matches off the mantelpiece, 
and deliberately scatters several matches on the 
hearth. Again he kneels down, draws out a tiny 
electric torch from his vest pocket, and throws a 
gleam up the chimney, and around the grate. On 
the alert all the time, he detects the sound of some one 
approaching the door : he pockets the lamp, hums 
an air, and, picking up the matches, replaces them 
in the box.) 



44 THE jMAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

(Miriam Lee enters.) 

(Brent docs not look tip.) 

{Warning revolve grate.) 

Miriam {standing in the open doorway). Whatever 
are you doing ? 

{She closes the door.) 

Brent. Spilt a box o' matches — beastly nuisance 
pickin' 'em up. 
Miriam. I'm all alone. 

(Brent springs to his feet immediately.) 

Brent. Good ! . . . Keep a sharp look out of 
the window, will you ? 

{He hastens to the door and locks it.) 

(Miriam glances through the open windows ; closes 

them and turns to him.) 

Miriam. Coast quite clear. What is it, Kit ? 

Brent {dropping down stage l.c). I'm not sure, 
but I think I'm on the verge of an interesting dis- 
covery. Were you in the room last night when 
Miss Myrtle asked for a fire, and Mrs. Sanderson 
refused ? 

Miriam. Yes. 

Brent {at fireplace) . Didn't it strike you that her 
refusal was unnecessarily emphatic ? 

Miriam. I didn't notice it at the time, but now 
you mention it 

Brent. Exactly. {He kneels again by the grate 
and contimies his scrutiny.) I can't say that it was 
quite that that made me think there must be some- 
thing very queer about this grate, but I've made a 
bit of a discovery since — listen ! {He taps the lower 
file and then the upper.) Notice that ? {Taps both 
again.) Hear the difference ? Iron. Wood. A 
wooden fireplace. {Sits on fire-stool-^ And then a 
few minutes ago I happened to throw a lighted 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 45 

match on the coals when Fritz was in the room. 
{Passing his hands all round the suspected tiles.) 
You should have seen him. He was in such an 
almighty hurry to put it out that I felt certain — ah, 
by Jingo, that's ingenious. 

(The hidden spring has been discovered, and the entire 
grate has revolved, bringing into view a complete 
apparatus for the receipt and despatch of wireless 
messages.) 

Miriam. Whatever have you found ? 

Brent. A wireless up the chimney ! I knew that 
flagpole wasn't there for nothing. 

Miriam. Flagpole ? 

Brent. Yes, just by the chimney-stack. That's 
how they've worked their aerials. Oh, if only I 
could intercept a message. 

Miriam. It may be working. Try it. 

Brent. Right. I will. 

Miriam. But if you do pick up a message, how 
will vou know that it doesn't come from some quite 
harmless person ? 

Brent. A secret installation like this isn't likely 
to be in tune with more than one other instrument 
in the country. Anyhow, it's worth trying. 

{He fixes the receiver to his ear.) 

Miriam. Rather. 

Brent {taking the key in his hand). But, for the 
Lord's sake, keep a sharp look out ! 

{Follows a brief pause before he exclaims — in accents of 
intense excitement — ) 

By Jupiter, it is working ! Somebody keeps callin'. 

{He fishes from his pocket the book which Miriam, who 
comes c, has given to him previously, and throws it 
across to her.) 

Quick, catch ! Hunt through that, will you ? — and 
tell me how to signal him to proceed. 



40 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miriam. Where shall I look ? 

Brent. Try number seven. 

Miriam. What's the call ? 

Brent. Two dots — a pause — and then three 
dots very quickly. 

Miriam (shakes her head, after a hasty exclamation). 
That isn't it. 

Brent. Then number nine. 

Miriam. Two dots — a pause — then three dots 
quickly. That's what you said, isn't it ? 

Brent. That's it. 

Miriam. Answer : two dashes — a pause — two 
dots. 

Brent. Good. Just half a minute while I get 
my notebook. [He fishes it out of his pocket.) Now 
then. {He gives the signal to proceed.) Dash dot, 
four dots again, and dash. {He enters the record in 
his notebook.) Does that make sense ? 

Miriam. Yes, that gives the German word 
" Morgan." 

Brent. A.i ! Just half a minute, and I'll 
have the whole thing down. 

(^4 considerable pause.) 

He's stopped. {He holds out the 7iotebook to Miriam.) 
What do 3^ou make of that ? 

Miriam {as she crosses to take the book from him). 
You'd better signal him to hold — dot — pause — tv/o 
dots. 

Brent. Right. {Give the signal.) 

(Miriam sits upon an arm of the armchair, and hastily 
translates the message by aid of the code-book. 

Miriam {reading the translation). " Leith ange- 
langt heute morgeii " 

Brent (interrnpting). That's so much double 
Dutch to me. What does it mean in common or 
garden English ? 

Miriam. Nothing that's intelligible — on the face 
of it. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 47 

Brent. Well, what is it ? 

Miriam. Landed Leith this morning — entrain 
to-night — crossing immediately — Uzz {pronounced 
" Oozz ") awaits signal — what orders ? 

Brent. Yc Gods ! Then they're not phantoms 
after all ! 

Miriam. Who aren't ? 

Brent. These troops from the North we've 
heard somuc'h about. I say, give me a reply. Some- 
thing short and sweet. Quick ! 

Miriam. A dot — a dash — two dots. 

Brent. What's that mean ? 

Miriam (placing his notebook on the armchair, and 
crossing to the window). In low German — very low 
— " Run away and play ! " 

Brent. Good enough. 

{He taps the message out, and, having done so, takes 
the receiver from his ears. 

Miriam. So that's why you let the bath run over ! 
— on purpose to get into this room ! 

(Brent smiles broadly.) 

{Wo.rning return grate to position.) 

Miriam. Kit, you're a marvel ! But what do 
you make of it ? Do you think they intend to try 
and stop the transports crossing ? 

Brent {replacing the receiver on its hook). Some- 
thing of the sort — and it's ten to one they'll manage 
it if we can't put a spoke into their wheels. {He 
rises from the stool.) " Uzz " — " Uzz " — what the 
devil does " Uzz " mean ? It's all as clear as daylight 
except that bit — and that's the one vital part of the 
whole thing, so far as we're concerned. {He takes the 
notebook from the arm-chair and crosses over to the 
table.) Arc you sure that you've translated it all 
right ? 

Miriam. Yes, that's just as you gave it to me. 
Look here. 



48 THE MAN WHO STAYEJ:> AT HOME. 

{She lays the notebook beside -the codebook on the table, 
and points first to one and then to the other.) 

That's what you've put down. And there's the 
translation — " U— double zed." That's right, isn't 
it? 

Brent (slipping the notebook into his pocket). Looks 
like it. So Master Uzz awaits a signal, does he ? And 
before we can prevent him gettin' it, we've got to 
find out who Master Uzz is, and what is the message 
he's awaitin'. {He sits in the armchair.) A nice 
little jig-saw for us to tackle after lunch. Point is at 
the moment what the devil we're to do with all this 
tackle. (He indicates the Marconi apparatus.) Seems 
a shame to put it out of gear. We might find it so 
jolly useful. On the other hand so might the enemy. 
We can't afford to run any risks. Here goes ! 

(He kneels on the floor beside the instrument, and removes 
the detector pin.) 

Miriam (crossing to l.c.) What have you done ? 

Br?:nt (as he shows it to her). Removed the 
detector pin — spiked the enemy's gun. (He puts it in 
his pocket.) 

Miriam (up l.c. above table). There are voices in 
the garden. 

(Warning revolve grate.) 

(She goes to the window and throws them open.) 

It's the Sandersons. 

Brent. Bless their innocent hearts, they're just 
ten seconds too late. 

(He reverses the grate, and rises to his feet, brushing 
the dust from his knees.) 

I think you'd better clear out. We'll have another 
pow-wow after lunch. By Jove, Miriam, but we've 
done great work this morning. 

(Miriam unlocks the door and goes out.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 49 

(The Sandersons re-enter by the window and find 
Brent still standing before the fireplace, again 
loading his pipe.) 
Mrs. Sanderson {at the top of table). What, still 

here, Mr. Brent ? 

(Carl drops down to desk.) 

Brent. Well— er— only temporarily, as it were. 
Fact is, I'm just goin' out to get an early morning 
edition. I've got a sort of feelin' that there's good 
news in it— a sort of premonition, as it were, and I 
simply must find out if I'm right. Do you suffer 
from premonitions, Mrs. Sanderson ? 

Mrs. Sanderson (crossing to book-case l. and 
putting into it a novel which she has just obtained at the 
library). No, I don't think so— not more than most 
people. 

Brent. Don't vou, indeed ? I do— have done 
ever since I was— a kid. It's quite amazin' the 
t hings r ' premonish . " Just to give you an example ; 
only the other night I dreamt of runnmg water, 

Mrs. Sanderson. Oh ! But how very lucky. 

Brent. It's awfully good of you to say that, Mrs. 
Sanderson, because the very next morning I let the 
bath run over ! (To Carl.) Now wasn't that 
extraordinary ? 

Carl. Astounding ! 

Brent. Yes, I thought vou'd be mterestea. 
Well in case I don't get back before, I'll say good- 
bye till lunch time. 

(He goes out by the door.) 

Carl (crossing to l.c. below table). I wonder that 
chap hasn't got a job in the Intelligence Depart- 
ment ! , , 

Mrs. Sanderson. Thank goodness he s gone! 
That leaves the field quite clear. 

Carl. Certain ? 

D 



50 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Certain. They're all out now. 
excepting Fritz and the cook. 

Carl. Better lock the door, perhaps. 
Mrs. vSanderson. Very well, dear. 

{She does so, and mounts guard at the window.) 

(Carl sits on the fire-stool and touches the spring which 
reverses the grate. He places the receiver to his ears 
and picks up the key.) 

[Warning return grate to position.) 

Carl {after waiting a while). H'm ! Funny that 
he isn't calhng. P'raps he's waiting for a call from 
me. 

{He signals several times without result.) 

What the devil ? {He signals again impatiently.) 

Damn it ! The thing can't be out of order. 

(His eye suddenly lights upon the place where Brent 
has been tampering with the mechanism. He 
snatches the receiver from his ears, hangs it on to its 
hook, and bends down to examine the damage.) 

It is though ! By God, mater, somebody's been 
tampering with it. Look here ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. Impossible ! 

Carl. I tell you they have. The detector 
pin's gone. Look here. 

Mrs. Sanderson -.(^oz^w r.c). But it was all 
right last night, I got your message. 

Carl. This has been done this morning. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But who can have done it ? 
Nobodv knew of the thing besides ourselves — and 
Fritz. ' 

Carl {quickly). Better ring for Fritz. 

Mrs. Sanderson. You surely don't think ? 

Carl, Lm going to make sure. {He lets the grate 
revert to its normal position.) 

(Mrs. Sanderson presses the electric bell-bush, and 
then unlocks tJie door.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 51 

Mrs. Sanderson. What on earth's to be done 
now ? 

Carl. I must fly back to town at once. 

Mrs. Sanderson {do-an to r. of tabic). My poor 
boy ! 

Carl (pacing up and down l.). There's a train at 
10.30 — gets me up there a Uttle after two. I mayn't 
be able to get back to-night. If I can't I'll wire you — 
yes or no — if yes, then you know how to act. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Carrier ? 

Carl. No, that's wanted for the map I gave you. 
Besides, it's too late now. It must be the emergency. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But at such short notice ! 

Carl. No need for you to worry. You'll be 
well recompensed. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Who gets the signal ? 

Carl. Submarine — Uii — standing out to sea. 

(Fritz enters.) 

Fritz. Madam rang for me ? 

Carl (at l.c. with brutal vehemence). Come here. 
Fritz — closer — closer still. (He puts his fingers about 
the wretched man's throat.) I want you to understand 
quite clearly that the first lie you utter will be 
strangled in your throat. 

Fritz. Meester Carl, sarc, I no understand. For 
what should I lie ? 

Carl. Wlio has been tampering with the Marconi 
instrument ? 

Fritz. Dc Marconi ! Oh. sare, oh, madam, 
who done it ? 

Carl. That's what I'm asking you. 

Fritz. Sare, how can I tell you ? 

Carl. You lie. (His grip tightens.) 

Fritz (gasping). I svear I do not know. 

Carl. You lie. 

Mrs. Sanderson. _ Carl, my son, be careful ! 

Fritz (at his last gasp). By our Imperial Master, I 
svear ! ^ ^ 



52 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson {terrified). Carl ! Carl ! 

(Carl flings Fritz from him with violence. Fritz 
falls upon the Chesterfield, and remains for some time 
as he fell, gasping for breath.) 

Carl. Then, who is the spy ? It must be some 
one in this house. Mother, 3/ou must track him down. 

(Fritz staggers to his feet.) 

Fritz. Meester Brent — he have been in dis room 
all de morning. He throw^ a lighted match upon de 
fire — mit mein own eyes I see him — mit mein own 
hands I put it out. 

(Mrs. Sanderson drops down r.) 

Carl {impatiently). Bah ! That eye-glassed fool. 

(Fritz is about to continue, but Carl silences him 
with a gesture as Brent rushes on to the verandah 
in a great state of excitement, an open newspaper in 
his hand.) 

Brent {top of table, panting). I say! I say ! 

{Everybody sivings round to face him.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. You bring good news ? 
Brent. No ; perfectly awful ! 
Mrs. Sanderson. A German victory ? 
Brent. No ; but almost as bad. 
Carl. The fleet ? 
Brent. No. 

Mrs. Sanderson, The news is from Russia then ? 
Brent. No — from Newmarket. 
Carl. Newmarket ? 

Brent {sinking into chair l. of table). Yes, they've 
scratched " Baby Boy " for the Cesarcwitch. 

■ TABLEAU. 

The Curtain Falls. 



, ACT II 

Scene. — The same as in Ad I. 

It is about 4.30 of the same afternoon. As the scene 
proceeds the light slowly and gradually diminishes 
until by the end of the act it has become quite dimt 

The curtain rises on an empty stage. Mrs. Sanderson 
enters and is about to ring the bell, when Fraulein 
ScHROEDER, returned from a walk, appears upon the 

verandah. 

She peers through the windoiv to ascertain if the room 
is occupied, and, having satisfied herself that Mrs. 
Sanderson is alone, taps upon the panes. 

Mrs. Sanderson opens the windows to admit her. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Back already, Luise ? You've 
been very quick. 

Fraulein (moving down to the table, and sitting R. 
of it). I have been fortunate. The chffs were 
deserted. Everybody was at tea. No one to inter- 
rupt. But one half hour, and my drawings were 
complete. 

Mrs. Sanderson {as she closes windoivs, and comes 
down R. of Fraulein). The harbour defences ? 

Fraulein. Every detail. 

Mrs. Sanderson. I congratulate you. 

Fraulein. Dank Dir, mein Kamaredin. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Sh ! We must still be careful. 

(Fraulein Schroeder shrugs her shoulders.) 

53 



54 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Fraulein. The English have no ears. How, 
then, should their walls have them ? . . . Where 
is everybody ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Need you inquire ? 

Fraulein {amused and contemptuous). At their 
tea? 

Mrs. Sanderson. At their tea. Had you brought 
news that our Admiral had landed upon their shores, 
they would still ask for a second cup before inquiring 
the place of his landing ! . . . They are a strange 
people — these enemies of ours ! 

Fraulein {with fanatical vehemence). They are 
fools and the sons of fools ! They dwell in a fool's 
paradise, and bitter shall be their awakening, for it 
is into our hands that the Lord has delivered them. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Thanks be to Him for our 
part in their undoing. 

Fraulein. And a great part, mein Kamaredin. 
. . . {She rises.) You have news ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. From Carl ? 

(Fraulein Schroeder nods.) 

Not yet. I expect a telegram from him every 
moment. 

Fraulein. And the spy ? — the traitor ? Fritz 
has discovered nothing ? 

Mrs. Sanderson {crossing to the door). I was 
about to ring for him when you came in. 

{She rings the bell. Fraulein moves over to the 
desk.) 

Fraulein. Carl said something about Brent. 
Surely he doesn't seriously suspect him ? 

Mrs. Sanderson {dropping down l. of table). 
We must suspect everybody. 

(Fraulein returns to r. of table, and seats herself 
again.) 

Fraulein. But Brent ! — m idiot and a coward ! 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 55 

— despised even by his own people. The idea is pre- 
posterous ! Sooner would I fear that old stupid, 
Preston. 

Mrs. Sanderson {sitting doivn l. of table). I am 
not so sure. Not every man who wears an eyeglass 
is short-sighted. 

Fraulein. But his conversation ! ... He looks 
like a fool ; he talks like a fool ; he acts like a fool ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. All the same, I am not satisfied 
that he is quite such a fool as he pretends to be. 

(Fritz enters by the door, and closes it behind him.) 
Ah, Fritz, are they still at tea ? 

Fritz {at c). I haff jusd daken dem off doast de 
fourth round. {Passionately.) Oh, dat it mighd 
shoke dem in de droat ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. Sh ! Not so loud ! You have 
discovered nothing yet ? 

(Fritz comes down to the top of the table at which 

Fraulein and Mrs. Sanderson are sitting. 

From sheer force of habit he proceeds to make an 

orderly arrangement of the newspapers and magazines 

which are scattered upon it.) 

Fritz. Nodings . . . nodings for sure. 

Fraulein {eagerly) . But you suspect somebody ? 

Fritz. I haff mein eye fix upon one man, 

Mrs. Sanderson. Brent, of course. 

Fritz. No ; nod Meester Brent. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Not Brent ! 

Fraulein. Surely it cannot be the little toy 
soldier ? 

Mrs. Sanderson {to Fraulein). What do you 
mean ? 

Fraulein. " Pennicake " — or whatever his name 
is. 

Fritz. It iss nod on Brent or Pennicake I fix mein 
eye, but upon Meester Preston dad I glue him. 

Fraulein {to Mrs. Sanderson). Ah ! What did 
I say just now ? 



56 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson. What makes you suspect Mr. 
Preston, Fritz ? 

Fritz. He go to do delephone. I lisden. I hear 
him sav " Sherman — spy — Marconi." 

(Mrs. Sanderson starts.) 
I hear him dalk about dem. Den he come in here. 
By himselves he sit down, all alone. I ask him to 
go oud. I make excuse de room id musd be sweep ; 
undt he refuses. He svear at me : " Clear oudt ! " 
Undt now I follow him always. I leaff him by him- 
selves alone not cffer. 

Mrs. Sanderson. You have done quite right, 
Fritz ; and yet somehow I can't think 

Fraulein. But I can. I am not surprised. He 
has a bad face, cold and cruel like a cod-fish. 

Mrs. Sanderson {to Fritz). Come and tell me 
immediately if you find out anything more. 

Mrs. Sanderson. At vonce, madam. 

{He turns and inoves toivards the door.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. And Fritz 

Fritz {wheeling). Madam ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. The plan of the mine-field 
that Mr. Carl gave you ? — has it gone ? 

Fritz. My lasd, my mosd peautiful pird, I haff 
him ready — de leedle map tied tight to 'is leg. In 
haff an hour he fly — fasder dan de train — straight 
for his beloffed Shermany. 

{He walks to the door.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. And your drawings, Luise ? 

Fraulein. It is necessary that I take tracings 
from them. 

Mrs. Sanderson. You are not sending the 
originals ? 

Fraulein. Ah, no. The originals arc for the 
pleasure of my friends — ^you understand ? They 
are works of art. The tracings are but in outline, 
with my notes of strategic values. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 67 

Mrs. Sanderson. Oh, I see. Then 

{She is interrupted by a signal from Fritz, who snaps 
his fingers several times in quick succession. This 
is the signal always employed by him to signify 
the approach of " the enemy.") 

(The voices of Preston, Miss Myrtle and others 
are heard " off." They draw nearer.) 

(Fraulein gets up from her chair, and moves down to 
the desk.) 

Fraulein. We must arrange about them later. 
The PhiUstines are upon us. 

(Mrs. Sanderson rises, and, having stationed herself 
by the fireplace, motions Fritz to open the door. He 
does so, and Preston enters, followed by Miss 
Myrtle, Molly, Miriam and Brent.) 

(Preston comes down to the top of the table. Miss 
Myrtle follows him and seats herself r. of it. Molly, 
accompanied by Brent, moves over to the window, 
while Miriam goes to the bookcase and amuses herself 
by glancing at the titles of the books itpon its shelves. 

{When they are all in, Fritz goes out, closing the door 
noiselessly behind him.) 

Preston {addressing the company in general). 
Well, I must say that I've enjoyed my tea thoroughly. 
Surprising how hungry the sea-air makes one. 

(Molly having observed the approach of Pennicuik, 
goes out by the window to meet him.) 

Miss Myrtle. You are fortunate, Mr. Preston. 
The tea that Mrs. Sanderson had provided for us 
was certainly most excellent — 

{The gracious smile which she bestows upon her hostess 
is returned with interest.) 

— and I do not doubt that I should have enjoyed it 
as much as anybody had it not been for my unfortun- 



58 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

ate — er — ah, dear Fraulein Schroeder, might I beg 
another of those excellent pilules for the digestion ? 

(Fraulein turns from the desk, and rises.) 

Fraulein. With pleasure. 

{She opens her hag and takes from it a small bottle, 
which she hands to Miss Myrtle. As she is doing 
this her sketch book slips from her lap unnoticed by 
her,) 

(Brent sees it fall. He moves down the stage in his 
most casual manner, and manages — without drawing 
attention to himself — to push the book along the 
carpet with his foot until he has got it up to the ivindow- 
seat. Then he sits down, and bends — to all outward 
seeming — to adfust his bootlace. He picks the book 
up and glances through its pages.) 

{It is essential that the audience should see Brent 
examining its contents, and it must be obvious to 
them that he considers his find of value. Eventually 
he slips it into his pocket.) 

Fraulein. Take two. 

{She crosses in front of the table to Mrs. Sanderson 
who is standing by the fireplace.) 

I am sure Mrs. Sanderson will forgive me for remark- 
ing that the beef at luncheon was somewhat tough. 
Mrs. Sanderson {seating herself in the armchair). 
I'm so very sorry. I can't understand it. Our 
butcher is generally so reliable. 

(Preston, who is sitting at the top of the table, looks 
up from his newspaper.) 

Preston. Ah well, well, one must expect these 
things when the country is in a state of war. That 
bit of tough beef would have tasted like nectar or 
elysium — or whatever they call it — to the Germans. 
Poor beggars ! I see in the paper that they've 
finished their last horse alreadv, and now'll have to 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 59 

subsist almost entirely on cats and dogs ! One can't 
help feeling sorry for the poor misguided wretches — 
but it serves "em right ! 

(Mrs. Sanderson rises and crosses behind the table 
to her desk. As she passes Fraulein Schroeder 
she exchanges a glance of amusement with her.) 

(Miriam has taken a book from the bookcase and sits 
upon the arm of the Chesterfield, scanning it more or 
less idly.) 

Miss Myrtle (vastly indignant). Cats and dogs ? 
I never heard anything so wicked ! I shall write 
to the R.S.P.C.A. to-night. They're sure to have 
a branch in Germany. 

Fraulein. Indeed, yes. Fraulein Krupp is 
President. 

(Preston snorts. The others find it very difficult to 
restrain their laughter.) 

Miss Myrtle. I hear that Miss Kidlington was 
most successful with her white feather crusade this 
morning. 

Fraulein. In my country— 

(She intercepts a glance of suspicious inquiry from 
Preston, and makes haste to correct herself.) 

I should say in my former country — such a thing 
would not be necessary'. 

(Preston rise^ from his chair after the manner of 
one called upon to address the gathering.) 

Preston. And let me tell you, ma'am, that it is 
wholly unnecessary in this country. I thoroughly 
disapprove of such methods. {He raises his voice.) 
If a man cannot or will not hear his country's call, he 
must either be able to give a reasonable excuse to his 
friends or be prepared to sacrifice their esteem ! 

Brent. Hear ! Hear ! 

{This ribald interruption deprives Preston, for a 



60 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

moment, of the power of further speech. He glares 
at Brent in apoplectic and impotent wrath. Miriam 
perceives that some timely diversion is required to 
avert a scene. She rises and crosses l.c.) 

Miriam {very sweetly). By the way, Mr. Preston, 
didn't you get one this morning ? 

Preston. I'm afraid I don't understand. What 
should I have got ? 

Miriam. A feather. 

Preston (hardly able to believe his ears). Eh? 
. . . Certainly not ! . . . Even Miss Kidlington had 
sufficient remnants of good taste left to — er — respect 
my years. 

Miriam. Yet many a man with a fine, youthful 
constitution like yours has forgotten the date of his 
birth-certificate in a spirit of patriotic enthusiasm. 

(Brent strolls leisurely across the back of the stage 
to the fireplace. He sits on the fire-stool.) 

(Preston, crushed and unhappy, rises to reply to 
Miriam.) 

Preston. My dear Mrs. Lee, there is nobody who 
— er — would offer himself to his country more — er 
— readily than I would — were it possible ! But, 
believe me,, I have responsibilities of a private nature, 
which — er — even were I all you are pleased to imply 
— would not permit me to — er — well — er — to risk 
my life upon the battlefield. 

Miriam. You are prepared to give me details of 
those responsibilities ? 

Preston. My dear madam, really — I ! 

Miriam. You are not. I didn't expect you would 
be. Don't think me impertinent. I just wanted to 
bring home to you the fact that there are quite a 
number of men — (Her glance rests upon Brent) — 
besides yourself, who h^ve responsibilities which 
they cannot reveal to the world, but which are more 
than sufficient to justify them in staying at home. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 61 

(She turns on her lied, and moves over to the window-seat 
up stage.) 

{An awkivard pause succeeds her final ivords. Miss 
Myrtle and the other ladies exchange significant 
glances.) 

(Fraulein drops her hall ofivool, and Brent, pouncing 
upon it like a kitten, retrieves it and returns it to 
her.) 

Brent. I say, it's jolh^ good of you, Fraulein 
Schroeder, to be knittin' 'those bed-socks for our 
wounded fellows. 

Fj^aulein. Bed-socks ! If you are referring to 
this, Mr. Brent — {She lifts her ivork from her knees) — 
it is a mufBer which I am making for myself. 

Brent. Oh, I say, I do beg your pardon, but— er 
— well, anyhow, it's"^an awfully jolly colour, isn't it. 

Miss Myrtle {to Mrs. Sanderson). We were all 
most sorry to hear of Mr. Carl's enforced return to 
town. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes. Isn't it annoying ? How- 
ever, I'm hoping very much that he may be able to 
get down again to-night. He's going to wire me. 

Preston. Nothing serious, I hope— likely to 
detain him. 

Mrs. Sanderson. I have no more idea than you 
have, Mr. Preston. A servant of the. Admiralty is 
not permitted to reveal the secrets of his country 
even to his mother. 

Miss Myrtle. How proud you must be of him ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. I am. 
{The door opens and Molly enters, pulling Pennicuik 

on with her. Fritz follows them. He holds a 

salver in his hand upon ivhich is a telegram.) 

Molly. Come along, Percy. 
(Fritz takes the telegram down to Mrs. Sanderson 
at desk, and remains beside her whilst she opens it.) 



62 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Pennicuik. Hello, everybody. 

{He comes down l. of Preston. Brent rises from 
the fire- stool.) 

Preston {to Pennicuik). Ah ! You're got into 
fighting kit after all ! 

Pennicuik {distinctly self-conscious). Yes — don't 
fit — but it's all right. 

Molly {tugging at the tails of his tunic). It pokes 
most horribly in the back. 

Pennicuik. I say, Molly, wait a minute. I've 
got some tremendous news that I simply mufi tell 
you all. 

('Indeed ? 
Chorus. I Really ? 

(what is it ? 
Pennicuik {impressively). A little surprise for 
the Germans. You know those troops from the 
North that we've heard so much about — well, it's 
quite true ; a hundred thousand have gone through 
the country already, and another hundred thousand 
are going through to-night. That'll be a nasty pill 
for 'em ! That'll tickle the blighters up a bit ! 

(Fritz is viuch perturbed. He drops the salver.) 

Mrs. Sanderson {calmly — giving him a glance of 
warning). There's no answer, Fritz. 

(Fritz goes out. Mrs. Sanderson turns to Pennicuik.) 

You bring us great news, Mr. Pennicuik — if only it is 
true. 

Preston. Wonderful news ! Did you hear it on 
good authority ? 

Pennicuik. Rather ! — the very best. I'm not 
allowed to tell you who it came from — but it's 
straight ifrom the nose-bag ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. It's curious that my son should 
have said nothing about it. I've just had a wire 
from him. 



THE MAN \VH(T STAYED AT HOME. 03 

{She tears the telegram into fragtnents, and drops them 
into the waste-paper basket.) 

Miss Myrtle. Is he coming back to-night ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes. 

Miss Myrtle. I'm so glad, dear. 

Molly (poising herself on an arm of the armchair). 
It wasn't in the papers, Percy. 

Pennicuik. No ; and it won't be either. If it's 
going to be a real surprise-packet for the Germans 
we've got to He jolly low about it. They've got 
their beastly spies all over the place, and — oh, I beg 
your pardon, Fraulein Schroeder. 

Fraulein. Please don't. It is not kind for you 
all to so forget that I am English. 

Preston". That's right, Fraulein, don't you allow 
it. " United we stand," eh ? 

Brent. Oh, listen to the lion lying down with 
the lamb ! 

Preston. Bah ! 

Brent. Baa ! . . . Oh, but I meant you for the 
lion. 

(Molly rises, ani sfanis beside Pennicuik.) 

Molly. Now you two, please ! — Percy hasn't 
finished. 

Brent. As you were ! The battalion will 
advance ! . . . 

Pennicuik. Oh, it's nothing much — only I 
thought it was rather a joke. I've got to go on board 
on the cliff-path to-night — just at the bottom of the 
garden here. 

(Exclamitions of interest and surprise from thi assem- 
bled company.) 

Molly. All by yourself ? 

{The anxiety with which Mrs. 'Sanderson and Frau- 
lein Schroeder await his answer does not escape 
Brent.) 



64 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Pennicuik. Oh, I shall be reheved, of course. I 
get two hours on and four off. I start at six and go 
on till eight. Then somebody takes the job over, 
and I don't come on again till twelve. 

(Fraulein and Mrs. Sanderson exchange glances.) 

Preston. But dear me — surely it's very extra - 
ordinary ? What on earth is there for you to guard 
on the chff path ? 

Pennicuik. Goodness alone knows ! — I don't. 
But if you should feel like taking a stroll along the 
top after six, keep your eyes open, and be ready to 
answer if I challenge you. 

Miriam. I shouldn't have the remotest notion 
what to do if I was challenged. What ought I to do, 
Mr. Pennicuik ? 

Brent (perching himself upon the fire-stool). Oh, 
I can tell you that. He'll pop up from behind a 
pebble somewhere and say, " Halt ! Who goes 
there ? " You answer him as quickly as ever you 
can, " Friend ! " Then he'll say, " Advance one, 
and give the countersign ! " You mumble out the 
first long word that com.cs into your head, and he 
says, " Pass, friend ; thumbs up ! " {He turns to 
Pennicuik.) That's right, isn't it ? 

Pennicuik {laughing heartily). Good Lord, no ! 
All that's a wash-out. South Africa taught us a thing 
or two better than that. As soon as ever I've said 
'' Halt ! " I take cover and get ready to fire ! 

{Everybody, stirred and excited, exclaims — ) 

Omnes. Fire ! 

Pennicuik. And that's all there is to it. 

Miss Myrtle. Dear me, this does feel like war ! 
... I don't suppose the young couples on the cliff 
will like it, but how safe we shall all feel with Mr. 
Pennicuik at the bottom of the garden ! 

Molly. Shall we be allowed to come out and have 
a chat to cheer you up ? 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 65 

Pennicuik {crossing in front of the tabic towards 
M^c Sandfrson) I don't know about that I 
teUevc U™°n;t the rule. But when I'm off duty 
n look in here for a whisky and soda if I may. 

MRS Sanderson {rising). Do, please, Mr. Penm- 
en* We shall be delighted. (Sheturr^s ^^ F«AULEm 
ScHROEDER.) Will you comc upstairs and help me 
to finish those body-belts ? 

(Brent looks puzzled.) 

Fraulein With pleasure. [She rises also.) 

Brent Body-belts? ... Oh, yes, of course 
you mean those mufflers for the tummies of the 
Toinmies ! 

(Mrs Sanderson mid Fraulein go out) 
(The clock in the hall strikes five. Preston co»smWs 
^ hisZtch He rises and moves over to the fire.plate.) 

Preston. Five o'clock already. I couldn't have 

"^MTsf 4rtle. No. Time does fly, doesn't it ? 
Oh-and that reminds me ; I have an emergency 
meeting at the Vicarage at a quarter-past. 1 must 
Tand put on my hat at once. [She nses and goes 
Z::ds te door^ Good-bye for th^ F-n^'J;„ 
Pennicuik, I do hope you'll have a pleasant evening 

%reVt '"'l say d'you mind if I come with you, 

Mifs Myrtle I^want to get some Woodbines for our 

woundJd fellows. As Mr. Preston says, one must do 

something. 

(He opens the door for Miss Myrtle, and follows her 

^ out of the room.) 

(PENNICUIK Stands standing at the door in op^^'^^^^f 
^ astonishment at what would '^PP^^'^nobe mMU 

stupidity or callousness on Brents part. He 

exclaims — ) 

Pennicuik. Extraordinary chap— Brent ! 



66 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston (his eyes full of a baleful resentment). 
" Must do something "!...! call it brazen ! — 
brazen ! 

(Molly makes a gesture of impatience as she sits dowfi 
at the head of the table.) 

Molly, Father, I do wish you'd let the subject 
drop. Kit — er — Mr. Brent has every right to 

Preston. No, he hasn't ! — not without an ade- 
quate excuse ! 

Pennicuik. I can't understand it. I should have 
thought he could have found something to do. 

Preston. Of course he could ! — something better, 
anyhow, than loafing about, potting at inanimate 
objects with an airgun ! Pah ! . [His eye falls 
upon Miriam.) Ah, now you're a sensible woman, 
Mrs. Lee. What's your opinion ? 

Miriam (quite sweetly). I'm really a little tired of 
the topic, Mr. Preston, so, if you'll excuse me 

(She does not finish her sentence, but, picking up a 
book, goes out with it, through the window into the 
garden.) 

(Pennicuik follows her to the window, and closes 
it behind her.) 

Preston (grunting as soon as he thinks that she is 
safely ozd of earshot). Admires him. 

Pennicuik (dropping dozm r.). Mutual ? 
Preston. Indications in that direction. 

(Molly, sorely hurt and deeply offended, pushes back 
her chair impatiently. She rises and sits upon the 
edge of the table, turning her back on Preston ayid 
on Pennicuik — and incidentally upon the audience. 
The catch in her voice betrays how deeply she is hurt.) 

Molly. Really, I — I think you're both very 
horrid this afternoon. 

Pennicuik (penitent at once). I'm sorry, Molly. 
Let's change the subject. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 67 

Preston. Nonsense ! There's nothing for you to 
be sorry a.bout, and we will certainly not change the 
subject. My daughter must clearly understand, 
once and for all, that it will be totally and entirely 
against my wishes and will meet with my utmost 
displeasure if she continues her intimate regard for 
Christopher Brent. 

(Molly rises from the tabic, ' and faces Preston.) 

Molly. Father, I think that you're being very, 
very unjust. 

Pennicuik [moving towards her r. of table). But 
he's making you look so small. People are bound 

Molly. Oh, please don't argue with me. 

(She sits down at the head of the table, determined 
to have the matter 02it.) 

Mr. Brent has his reasons for doing as he is doing. 
What those reasons are none of us know. But I'm 
quite satisfied by his assurances that they are good 
enough, and that, as soon as ever he can, he will 
::plain them to us. 

Preston. Fiddlesticks ! If he has reasons, they're 
something to be ashamed of, or he could explain 
them now. 

Pennicuik. I'm bound to say that I agree. 

(Molly sees the futility of further argument. She gets 
up from her chair. There is hopelessness in her 
voice, a certain amount of desperation, and more than 
a little coni€7npt.) 

Molly. Oh, yes, you're men. You judge every- 
body by yourselves. You think things. I know them. 
I love Kit. I've always loved him ; and because I'm 
a wom.an — just a v,^oman — I should go on loving him 
even if you were right and he was in the wrong. I'd 
love him all the more for being wrong. Can't you 
unierjjtand that ? 

(Preston and Plnmicuik cannot understand it. 



68 THE MAN WHO STx^YED AT HOME. 

They exchange glances of comic perplexity, and tayn 
away l. and r. respectively.) 

(Molly approacJtes the door, turns, and concludes 
pathetically and hopelessly — ) 

No, of course you can't. But I love Kit — and I'm 
right. 

{With the tears very near to flowing she hastens from 
the room.) 

Preston (impatiently, as the door closes behind her). 
Teh ! Her mother all over ! (He moves from the 
fireplace and seats himself l. of the table.) Oh, these 
women ! You simply can't make them see things 
in the right light. They don't know what reason 
means. 

Pennicuik {moving over to the table and sitting down 
R. of it). Poor Molly ! I do wish we hadn't upset 
her. 

Preston. Far better that than make no effort to 
prevent her making a fool of herself. She sha,n't 
have anything more to do with Brent, if I can help it. 

(Pennicuik sighs deeply.) 

Pennicuik. Brent's a lucky devil ! 

(Preston starts, and looks at him. closely.) 

Preston [with sudden decision). Look here, my 
boy, I've often thought that you 

Pennicuik. Yes, I know, sir ; but it's hopeless. 
I don't stand an earthly. 

Preston. Have you ever tried ? . . . " Faint 
heart never won fair lady," you know. 

Pennicuik. It's not that. It's just one of those 
cases in which there can't be an^^ competition. Molly's 
given all she has to give to Brent. She hasn't sa 
much as a thought to bestow on anybody else. 

(Preston grunts unamiably.) 

Preston. Don't be a fool, Pennicuik ! The 



THP^ MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 69 

girl doesn't know her own mind. Girls never do 1 
If there isn't any competition, you must make it. 
I'll back you up for all I'm worth. 

PExVNICUIK. Thank you. sir. That's jolly good 
of you, but — well, I'll think about it. 

{He rises, picks up his hat, and moves to the top of 
the table.) 

Preston. That's right. You'll find it helps a 
lot — me being on your side. 

Pennicuik (doubtfully). Yes, I — I'm sure I shall. 
(A pause.) Well, I think I ought to be going now, 
sir — got to report for duty. 

Preston. All right, my boy. 

(They shake hands.) 
Good luck to you. 

(Pennicuik goes out.) 

(Preston takes up a newspaper, and hunts in his pockets 
for his eyeglasses. Not finding them upon his 
person, he makes a tour of the room in search of them. 
Eventually he discovers them upon the mantelshelf. 
Having taken them from their case, he drops the case 
inadvertently into the grate, and stoops down to recover 
it. At this moment, or rather earlier, the door opens 
very quietly, and Fritz peers round it. The sight 
of Preston fishing around the grate confirms his 
suspicions. He tiptoes into the room and stands 
just behind Preston, so that the latter, in rising, 
collides with him, and is scared nearly out of his 
seven senses.) 

Preston. What the devil ? 

Fritz. Beg pardon, sare. 

Preston (gasping). I should think you do — 
giving me a start like that [ Idiot ! What the 
blazes d'ye want ? 

Fritz. You ring, sare. 

Preston. I did nothing of, the sort. 



70 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Fritz. I mecstake. 

Preston. Oh, go away ! . . . What's the matter 
with you ? You follow me about as if you were my 
shadow. 

Fritz. Pardon, sare. 

\He makes no move to go, hui flits about the room, re- 
arranging papers upon the tables, and performing 
a score of other quite superfluous tasks. Preston, 
from over the top of his newspaper, follows his 
movements with impatient and angry eyes.) 

Preston (no longer able to control his indignation). 
Look here, I'm getting tired of you ! 

{He flings his paper into the grate and approaches 
Fritz in menacing fashion.) 

Clear out ! 

Fritz. Pardon, sare ? 

(Fritz's complete composure causes Preston, meta- 
phorically, to foam at the mouth. He advances L. 
of table.) 

Preston. Clear out ! — if you don't want to be 
kicked out. 
Fritz (without trace of emotion). Yes, sare. 

(Fritz goes out by the door. Preston glares after him. 
Panting with indignation, he snatches another paper 
from the table, lejhcels the armchair about so that 
it faces the fireplace, and sits down. ' A moment's 
pause ensues before Fritz re-appears upon the 
verandah, and gently thrusts open the windows. 
Preston fidgets in his chair, shijts his position and 
turns up his coat collar. Eventually he exclaims — ) 

Preston. Damn the draught ! 

(He turns round towards the windows and observes 
Fritz. He gives vent to one explosive monosyllable, 
which sounds as much like " bschah I " as anything, 
and, springing to his feet, flings his paper violently 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 71 

into the chair, which he pushes aside. He is almost 
speechless with rage.) 

Preston. You ! — You ! — You ! — ! 1 ! 
Fritz. Pardon, sare ? 

(Preston has advanced to the table. He bangs his 
fist upon it.) 

Preston {in one violent outpouring of words). 
Pardon be damned ! How dare you ? You — you 
you — you 1 ! 

(Fr'itz turns from his occupation of arranging the 
window curtains so that they fall in graceful folds, 
and inquires, encouragingly, in the tone of one much 
interested — ) 

Fritz. Yes, sare ? 

Preston. Don't you laugh at me, you rascal — 
or you'll laugh on the other side of your face before 
you're many hours older. Dutch are you ? We'll 
see about that. It's my opinion that you're Ger- 
man ! {He turns down l.) D'ye hear me ? — 
GERMAN ! 

{The chance shot hits home. Fritz's jan) drops, 
and a look of fear comes into his eyes, but Preston's 
back is turned to him, and the minute acknowledgment 
escapes him.) 

{Meantime Brent has entered by the door, which he 
leaves open. He docs not see Fritz, who has flattened 
himself against the wall between the imndows and 
the door. He advances towards Preston, regarding 
him with amazement.) 

Brent. Hello, hello, hello ! — Havin' a nice little 
quiet chat all to yourself — what ? 

{Behind Brent's back, Fritz slips out of the room, 
noiselessly, through the open door.) 

(Preston, who has wheeled about on Brent's first 
words, observes his escape, and bellows after him — ) 



72 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston. Come back, 3/ou — you impudent fellow ! 
Come back here at once. 

(Brent follows the dircdion of Preston's gaze. He 
sees nobody and elevates his eyebrows significantly. 
He addresses Preston in a tone of ivhimsical 
reproach.) 

Brent. I say, you know, that's the most credit- 
able imitation of the jim-jams I've seen for a very 
long time. 

(Preston fixes him with an icy stare. Brent con- 
tinues cheerfully.) 

Feelin' a bit chippy ? — Eh ? 

Preston. And what the devil has it got to do with 
you, sir, if T am ? 

Brent {taking his arm in friendly and confidential 
fashion). Well, I'm rather a sound man to come 
to, in a case of this sort. I know one or two jolly 
good little tips, if you've been overdoin' things a bit. 

Preston. You arc pleased to be impertinent. 

Brent. Oh, I say, don't take it like t-hat ! 

Preston. Sit down ! 

Brent. Thanks aw^fully. 

(He sits down at the head of the table. Preston 
draws out a chair l. of it, and sits down also.) 

Preston. Now, Brent, I want a few straight 
words with you. 

Brent. Ah, that's good ! So long as you keep 
'em straight, we shan't be talkin' at cross-purposes, 
shall we ? — what ? 

Preston. We shall not !— if I can help it. . . . 
When I first saw you, Brent, I liked you — I liked you 
very much. 

{A ^ pause.) 

Brent. But ? 

Preston (glaring at him). But now, sir, I have 



THE MAK WHO STAYED AT HOME. 73 

been reluctantly compelled to reverse my opinion— 
to reverse it entirely. 

Brent. I see. , . . That's mifortunate, isn't it ? 

Preston (ignoring the comment). My daughter, I 
am sorry to say, does not see eye to eye with me in 
this— as in many other matters. 

Brent. No ? 

Preston-. You understand what I am drivmg at ? 

Brent. No, I— I can't say I do. 

Prestqn. It's no use mincing matters, Brent 

Brent. No. You get too much of that sort of 
thing in a boarding-house, don't you ? If they're 
not mincing things they're making a hash of them 
— ^what ? 

{He chuckles, well pleased by his quip. Preston 
turns an irate eye upon him.) 

Preston. I do not feel in the mood for humour, 
sir ! 

Brent (blandly). No ? . 

Preston (with violence). No! Perhaps we had 
better come to the point immediately. What I 
wish to find out from you is whether or not you are 
prepared to discontinue certain attentions which are 
no longer welcome to — to myself. ^ 

Brent. That's rather an odd question, isn t it? 

Pj^ESTON. Not at all. 

Brent. But, I say, whatever have I done ? 

Preston. It isn't so much what you have done 
as what you have failed to do. Not to put too fine 
a point on it, your behaviour has compelled me to 
the only possible conclusion— and that is that you 
are a coward. I repeat, sir — a coward ! 

(Brent springs to his fed, and turns aside. He 
flinches almost imperceptibly, but immediately re- 
covers his self-possession. He removes his eyeglass, 
polishes it, replaces it, and then looks steadily at 
Preston.) 



74 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent. Yes. Miss Kidlin'ton settled that point 
this morning, didn't she ? (He sits down again r. 
of table.) 

Preston. Ah! So you acknowledge it. 

Brent. I never contradict a lady. 

Preston (after a brief pause). I have always 
maintained that even the worst of us has his good 
points 

Brent. That's very considerate of you. 

Preston (continuing his sentence) — and if — if, si][, 
you have any remnant of manhood left in you ; if 
you are desirous to prove to me that you are not as 
weak-kneed as you have led me to suppose, you will 
do the only thing possible in the circumstances. 

Brent. And that is ? 

Preston. Relinquish all claim to the affections 
of my daughter, and— — 

Brent. But I say- 

Preston. One moment ! — and stand aside in 
favour of a more worthy suitor. 

Brent. A vaoxQ—what ? 

Preston. Mark you, I'm asking nothing un- 
reasonable of you. It is not as though you were 
engaged to my daughter. 

Brent. No ; but 

(Preston rises, and taps the table impatiently.) 

Preston. Come, come, sir— your decision ! 

Brent. My dear Mr. Preston, you may rely 
upon me to do the right thing. 

Preston (somewhat nonplussed). Eh ? — Yes — but 
what d'you call the right thing ? 

(Brent rises and drops down r. He speaks as one 
pursuing his own train of thought, unconscious of 
interruption.) 

Brent. At the right time. 

(There is a brief pause, during which Preston regards 
Brent with suspicious and inquiring gaze. Frau- 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 75 

LEIN ScHROEDER enters, and pauses in the doorway, 
glancing interrogatively from one man to the other.) 

Fraulein. I beg your pardon. I interrupt, do 
I not? 

Preston. Eh ? Oh, no, no, certainly not — I was 
just going. 

{He crosses towards the door — handkerchief in hand. 
As he goes he fumbles about the tails of his coat, 
intending to push his handkerchief into his tail- 
pocket. ' Unnoticed by him, and, for the moment, by 
Brent, if falls upon the floor.) 

(Upon reaching the door Preston turns round again and 
faces Brent.) 

Preston. I can rely upon you, Brent ? 

Brent {quite lightly). Absolutely. {He observes 
the handkerchief which Preston has dropped, and 
steps forward to pick it up.) I say ! Hi ! You've 
dropped your handkerchief. 

(Preston is out of the door and has slammed it behind 
him before the caution can reach his ears. Brent 
is about to follow him, but changes his mind, and 
thrusts the handkerchief into his pocket. Meanwhilt 
Fraulein Schroeder proceeds to hunt aboue the 
room, obviously in search of something.) 

{Brent turns from the door, and after watching her 
for a while, inquires — ) 

Brent. Lost anything, Fraulein Schroeder ? 
Fraulein {peering under the cushion on the arm- 
chair). I have mislaid my sketching tablet. 
Brent. Oh, it was yours, then. 

{He comes down r. to c. Fraulein hastens l. to c. 
to meet him. There is evidence of anxiety in her voice.) 

Fraulein. You have found it ? 

Brent {drawing the sketch-book from his pocket). 



76 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Yes ; it was on the floor here. I've had a peep 
inside. I — I hope you don't mind. 

Fraulein {dissembling her anxiety). Oh no — why 
should I ? 

Brent. I say, you know, I'd no idea you were 
such a toppin' good artist. {He opens the sketch- 
hook.) There's a Httle chap here — ah, that's it. 
That's the feller— a little picture of the harbour. 
Y'know that simply tickles me to death. 

Fraulein {eyeing himnarrowly) . " Tickles you ? " 
— I do not understand. 

Brent. I mean it's so rippin' good. You've got 
it absolutely to the life. . . . But I say, what's that 
tree doin' there ? 

Fraulein. Ti^ee ? Where ? 

Brent {indicating the spot with his forefinger). 
There. Isn't that where the fort is ? 

Fraulein. Ah, yes. But the fort is so unbeauti- 
ful. I claim an artist's license, I make it instead 
a tree. 

Brent. I see. Then this flag-pole, here, at the 
end of the pier — — ? 

Fraulein. Should be a lighthouse — yes. But it 
is so stiff, so ugly. I put a flag. It is so much 
prettier. 

Brent. Aha ! I see you've got the true artist's 
soul. 

(He closes the sketch-book, and returns it to Fraulein.) 

Fraulein (^5 she takes the hook from him) . I fear 
you do, Mr. Brent, what you call " pull my legs " ! 
. . . But it is not kind of you to be so critical. It is 
no more than a rough sketch. 

Brent. No, really, I assure you, I mayn't know 
much about most things, y'know, but at least I 
know sufficient about drawin' to recognize the work 
of a true artist when I see it. 

Fraulein. You flatter me. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 77 

{She turns away up stage l. to the door. Brent 
pursues her to the opposite side of the table.) 

Brent. No, I don't. I mean it. I do, really. 
I wonder, Fraulein, if you'd give me a little sketch 
some time — just a little memento of a pleasant 
meetin' and all that sort of thing, don'cherknow. 

{She moves nearer to the door.) 

Brent. If you could spare that little bit of the 
harbour. . . . Y'knowit's taken my fancy frightfully. 

Fraulein. Oh, that is nothing. I will give you 
one that is more worth the having. . , , You will 
excuse me ? It is necessary that I go. 

(Miriam comes in, and, seeing Fraulein^ pauses in 
the doorway to speak to her.) 

Miriam. Oh, there you are, Fraulein Schroeder. 
Mr. Sanderson wants you. She's been looking all 
over the place for you. 

Fraulein. Thank you. 

(Mrs. Sanderson's voice is heard calling from another 
part of the house.) 

Mrs. Sanderson (off). Luise ! 

Fraulein (replying). I come ... I come. 

(She goes out, bowing stiffly to Miriam as she passes her.) 

(Miriam watches her out, and, coming down the stage L., 
rests herself upon the Chesterfield. She turns with 
whimsical smile to Brent.) 

Miriam. Making friends with the Mammon of 
Unrighteousness ? 

(Brent walks over to her and perches himself upon 
the arm of the couch.) 

Brent. We've discovered that we have a bond 
in common — a love of art. She's goin' to teach me 
" Kultur," and, as a start, she's goin' to give me a 
sketch of the harbour. 



78 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miriam. Kit, you have got a nerve ! 
Brent. So has she. She let me look through her 
sketch-book without turnin' a hair. 
Miriam. She knows you've got it, then ? 
Brent. Rather ! 1 gave it back to her, 
Miriam (amazed). You gave it back to her ? 

Brent. Yes, it's no use to us. She's played the 
old dodge ; stuck in trees instead of forts, and flag- 
poles instead of lighthouses. It might be any- 
where. We can't prove anythin' from that. What 
we want are the jolly little tracin's she's goin' to 
make from those " so innocent pictures " — with 
measurements and notes, and all sorts of interestin' 
details. 

Miriam. But how can you be sure of getting 
them ? 

Brent. I can't ; but I'm goin' to risk it. I 
believe in my lucky star, Miriam. It's done me jolly 
well up to now. 

Miriam. Well, I think it's too big a risk to take. 
Those plans might do no end of mischief if once they 
got to Germany. You're taking' an awful responsi- 
bility on yourself. You've got more than sufficient 
evidence to have the whole gang arrested. I can't 
understand why you don't call the police in, and 
have done, with it. 

Brent {mysteriously). Ah ! That's where " Uzz " 
comes in ! 

Miriam {mystified) . Uzz ? 

Brent. Yes ; don't you remember : " Uzz 
awaits signal " — what that chap said on the wireless 
this morning ? — well, I've discovered who " Uzz " 
is. 

Miriam. You have ? 

Brent. Or rather what it. is. 

Miriam. It ? 

Brent. Yes, he's an it ! 

Miriam. Oh, do explain ! 
(Brent rises, and sits beside her on the Chesterfield.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 79 

Brent. Well, it's taken me the dickens of a time 
to worry it out, and it's the simplest thing in the 
world. In nearly all codes, as we both ought to 
have remembered, the same sign stands both for 
letters and for numbers. For instance, A might 
be one, B two, O three and so on. Sometimes they 
work it in a similar way from the opposite end of the 
alphabet, and in this case I think Z stands for one. 
Now you understand. 

Miriam. I don't. U double one ? 

Brent. Why not U eleven ? 

Miriam. But that's the name of a submarine. 

Brent. A German submarine. 

Miriam. And you think that they can signal to a 
German submarine from here ? 

Brent. I do. 

Miriam. But how ? 

Brent (rising with energy). That we must find 
out. Anyhow I thought it worth while to v/arn the 
Admiralty. 

{He moves to the small table by the door, and takes from 
it the parcel he brought in with him.) 

Miriam. By telephone ? 

Brent {undoing the wrappings of the parcel). Yes. 
There'll be a couple of destroyers in the bay to-night. 
The submarine ain't hkely to come to the surface 
untilthe time appointed for the message to be sent. 
We've got to find out what that time'^is, and then we 
do a bit of signalling ourselves. It's going to be a 
game of diamond cut diamond. 

{He walks over to the desk, and drops the paper and 
string containing the parcel into the waste-paper 
basket beside it.) 

Miriam (gravely). It's going to be a very danger- 
ous game. . . . Did you warn the Admiralty about 
Carl Anderson ? 

Brent. Yes; his number's up all right. A couple 



80 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

of plain clothes men will come down in the same train 
with him — unknown to him, of course — and later on, 
they'll give him the surprise of his young life ! Oh 
I say, we arc goin' to have some fun ! 

(Miriam rises and moves c. in front of the table.) 

Miriam. What do you want me to do ? 
Brent {crossing the stage towards her). Well, at 
the moment, you might give me a hand with this. 

(He holds out to her the tin box which he has just taken 
from its wrappings.) 

Miriam. What ever have you got there ? A box 
of cigarettes ? 
Brent. Looks like it, doesn't it ? 
Miriam. Then it isn't ? 
Brent. No, not exactly. 

{He opens the lid of the box. It would appear to 
contain only cigarettes. In point of fact a number 
of diimmy cigarettes have been glued to a stout piece 
of cardboard, which is secured to the box by hinges .and 
forms a second and inner lid. Having displayed 
the cigarettes to Miriam, and to the audience, Brent 
lifts this lid and discloses a coil of wire to either end 
of which is attached a disc rather after the style of 
the receivers employed by telephone operators.) 

(Miriam peers into the box.) 

Miriam. It isn't dangerous, is it ? 

Brent {laughing). Not to you ! As a matter of 
fact, it's rather a cute little dodge — generally known 
as " The Eavesdropper's Friend " ! 

{He gives the box to Miriam, and walks up stage r., 
uncoiling the wires from it as he goes.) 

It'll detect sounds entirely indistinguishable by the 
naked ear, and convey them quite clearly for a mile 
or more. Oh, it's a useful little feller ! 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 



81 



{Whilst he has hem talking he has been busily enamea 
in coneeahng one end of the apparatus amongst the 
Joliage of a palm near by the window.) 

(With Miriam's assistance he slips the remainder of 
the coil through the space between the window-doors 
and the floor. Then he goes out by the window for 
a moment, conceals the receiver on the verandah 
ana returns.) ' 

^TJ^^r I " ^'^^^^ ^^y^ ^^^^^^ ^^ seen and not heard " 

Well if necessary, this httle boy's going to hear and 

not be seen ! Comes to the same thing, doesn't it ? 

{He closes the windows.) 

(Miriam laughs and moves c. above the table.) 

Miriam. Oh, Kit, you're a wonderful person ? 

x^^'^ \^^ ^^r y^" y^^'^^ got some new trick." 
Where did you find this one ^ 

Brent. Sh ! Not a word.' 

(He tiptoes up to her, lays his hand upon her arm, and 

whispers m accents of great mystery—) 
Didn't you see what was on it '> 

Miriam. No. What ? 

Brent. Made in Germany ! 

(Miriam laiighs again, and Brent turns from her r.) 

By the way, talking about German inventions 

what about Fritz's Httle dickv-birds ? 
Miriam. I haven't noticed anything yet, but I'll 

just go and have another look round, shall I ? 
Brent. Yes, do, there's a dear woman. . . . 

J:>y Jove, Miriam, I am looking forward to to-night. 
(Miriam goes out by the window.) 

(Brent takes his beloved pipe from his pocket, and 
hunts upon the mantelshelf for a match, humming 
merrily to himself the while. The door ope^is and 
Molly enters. He slips his pipe back tnto his 
pocket -as he turns to greet her.) 



F 



82 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Molly (coming down to the top of the table). Oh, 
you are alone. 

Brent. Yes, quite, quite alone, little woman. 

Molly. I thought I heard somebody talking to 
you. 

Brent. Yes, it was Miri — er — Mrs. Lee. She's 
only just this minute gone out. 

(Molly is too absorbed in her own thoughts to observe 
his tise of. Mrs. Lee's christian name. She crosses 
to him at l.) 

Molly. Kit, father's been talking to me again. 

Brent. Oh, he's been at youf too, has he ? 

Molly. Kit, l\*^ been thinking. 

Brent. That's a tirin' job, isn't it ? 

{He pushes the armchair towards her.) 

Come and sit down and tell me all about it. 

Molly {coiling herself up in the armchair). It's no 
use running our heads against a stone wall, is it ? 

Brent {leaning over the back of the chair). No, it's 
not exactly a sound thing to do. 

Molly {on the verge of tears). Well — oh. Kit, how 
can I say it ? 

Brent. Fire ahead, old girl. Don't worry about 
me. 

Molly. But I do worry about you. You're 
the only thing Lve got to worry about. And yet 
I^— I can't help seeing things from father's point of 
view. Of course I know you can explain things. 
I know you will explain things. But until you do, 
I — -I — oh. Kit, do help me ! 

Brent. What is it that you want me to do, dear ? 

Molly. I want you to — to understand. 

(Brent moves rotmd the back of the chair and scats 
himself on the R. avjn . of it. He speaks in all 
seriousness — ) 

Brent. You want to break off our — our relations, 
eh? 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 83 

Molly. No, no, I don't. But just for .the present 
just until you can explain, I think it would be better 
if we — we didn't see quite so much of one another— 
and — and — oh, Kit, what are we to do ? 

[She turns away from him, and breaks down entirely. 
Brent la,ys an appealing hand upon her shoulders.) 

Brent. I say, look here, little woman, don't do 
that ! Don't, please, little woman ! You want 
me to understand — well, I — I do understand ; and 
I shan't blam.e you, my dearest — not one bit — if you 
say that everything's off, and we're sort of "as you 
were." 
• (Molly sighs heavily, and turns to him again.) 

Molly. Oh, Kit, if you only knew how miserable 
I am. ! 

Brent. Poor old darling ! 

Molly. Caq't 3-^ou give me even a hint to go on 
with ? 

Brent. I'd give the world to — if onlv I could. 
But I can'^, Molly. 

Molly. Not even a very little hint ? 

(BmL'i^T finds the temptation Jiard to resist. He rises and 
moves L.C., turning awav from the appeal in Molly's 
eyes.) 

Brent. Not even a very little one. 

(Molly rises. She hesitades, her eyes averted from 
Brent. It is with the utmost difficiilty that ' she 
inquires of him — ) 

Molly. Kit, it — it isn't something you can't tell 
me — ever ? 

Brent. No ! It's something I can't tell you now. 

[She hesitates more painfully even than before.) 

Molly. It's— it's not something you're ashamed 
to tell me ? 

(Brent turns to her with a little laugh.) 



84 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent, Rather not ! 

Molly {clinging to him, hut hiding her face from 
him). Kit, if it was that you really hated the idea, 
and were even a little bit afraid— 

{Bry.^t flinches, and she draws him more closely to her.) 

— I'd understand, because I'm only a woman. And 

though I'd be proud — oh, so proud ! — to see you 

doing things like the rest, in my heart of hearts I 

couldn't bear the thought of — of losing yov^—out 

there. 

(Brent, deeply moved, presses his lips to hers. His 

resolution is badly shaken. He feels that he must 

tell her the truth.) 

Brent. By Gad, I 

{He clenches his teeth, and turns away from her again, 
recovering his determination by a supreme effort of 
will-power.) 

Molly. Tell me, Kit, if vou want to. if it's — it's 
that. 

(Brent comes back to her.) 

Brent. It's not that, old woman. It's not any- 
thing that either you or I need be ashamed for any 
one to know. 

(Molly's disappointment ai her failure to extract more 
definite information from him is apparent. She 
turns on her heel, and walks slowly over to the fireplace,) 

Molly. Oh, if you only knew how hateful it is 
to be kept in the dark. 

Brent. You shan't be — for much longer. 

{All Molly's forebodings are dissipated by this promise. 
She turns from the fireplace, and runs back to Brent in 
high delight. The prospect of a mystery abottt to be 
elucidated fills her with excitement.) 

Molly. Kit ! 'You're really going to tell mo ? 
When ? 



THE MAN WHO STAYPJD AT HOME. 85 

Brent. In a day or two. Perhaps sooner. Per- 
liaps even to-night. 

(Molly j^m^s herself into his arms.) 

Molly. To-night ! ... Oh, Kit ! 

(Preston's voice is heard from outside calling 
" Molly.") 

Bother \ There's father caUing. I must go. I've 
promised to take him out for a walk. 

Brent. A good long w^alk. 

Molly. Why ? 

Brent. Well. I think his liver needs jogging up 
a bit ! 

Molly {laughing) . Poor Kit ! Was he very 
horrid to you ? 

Brent. I should think he was ! 

Molly (as she kisses him). Bless him. It was a 
shame ! 

(Her father calls again.) 

Good-bye, dear, I shall have to fly. (She turns in 
the doorway.) Oh, Kit, if you only knew how much 
happier you've made me ! 

(Brent walks backwards doivn stage l., nvatching her 
out. He bumps into the armchair and falls over the 
arm.) 

Brent (sotto voce). Damn ! 

{He picks himself up and pushes the chair hack into 
its accustomed place.) 

(Miriam appears upon the verandah, and taps upon 
the window-panes.) 

(Brent hastens to the windows and opens them.) 

Miriam {in an excited whisper). Fritz has just 
taken a pigeon out of the house. 

Brent (taking his airgun from the corner in which 
it always reposes). Right. (He picks up his hat.) 



86 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

You say a carrier always circles round three or four 
times before starting on a journey ? 

Miriam. Always. . . . You've got the dummy 
message that I made for you ? 

Brent. Yes, here it is. 

(He takes from his waistcoat pocket a paper rolled 
cartridge-wise, and wrapped in waterproof silk. 
This he shows to her, and then slips hack into his 
pocket.) 

You'd better stay by the window and try to prevent 
anybody comin' out into the garden for a minute or 
two. Engage 'em in conversation — you know. 

(He goes out into the gardeii.) 

(Miriam establishes herself by the window. All of a 
sudden Molly re-enters by the door, obviously ex- 
pecting to find Brent still in the room.) 

Molly. I say, Kit, father didn't want to— — (She 
perceives that Miriam is alone in the room) Hello, 
where is he ? 

Miriam. Mr. Brent has just gone out. 

(Molly moves to-wards the windows -with the intention 
of following him into the garden.) 

Molly. Then, if I run after him now I shall 
probably catch him. 

(Miriam maintains her position in front of. the windows, 
barring Molly's egress.) 

Miriam. I don't think you wUl. 
Molly. Well, I'll have a try for it, anyhow. 
Miriam. Miss Preston, there's something I parti- 
cularly want to ask you. 

Molly. When I come back, if you don't mind. 

(She takes a further step forward, and is amazed and 
indignant zejhen Miriam does not move aside.) 

(Frigidly.) Please let me pass. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 87 

Miriam (smiling). Yes, I know that my behaviour 
must seem very extraordinary, but not even you 
must disturb Mr. Brent just now. 

Molly. My dear Mrs. Lee, really, I don't under- 
stand this mystery at all. If Mr. Brent had not 
wished to be disturbed he would surely have men- 
tioned it to me just now. 

Miriam. Perhaps he didn't think of it. 

Molly. And in any case I think that you are 
taking more upon yourself than you have any right 
to do. 

(She steps aside — very much on her high horse — and 
stares out of the window.) 

(Fritz enters the room^ very quietly by the door.) 

Molly (indignantly). Why, there he is !— just 
strolling about with his airgun. (She gives a sudden 
start and leans forward excitedly.) Why, whatever 
is he doing ? . . . Oh ! He's shot a pigeon ! 

(Fritz gives an excited exclamation, and runs forward 
to the window.) 

Oh, Fritz, how you startled me ! . . . 

(Fritz wadts to hear no more) 

Fritz. . Mein Gott ! Ach ! Mein Gott ! 

(He thrusts Miriam aside and dashes through the 
window.) 

Molly (ate). Poor Fritz ! He is upset ! 

(Miriam moves r.c.) 

Miriam (tmable to control her feelings). Oh, Miss 
Preston, Miss Preston ! Why woiddnt you do as I 
asked you ? 

Molly. Really, Mrs. Lee, ,1 

(Her protest is interrupted by the re-appearance of 
Brent upon the verandah. He is clearly very much 



-88 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Upset and very much annoyed. He does not notice 
Molly, who has dropped down stage l.c.) 

Brent (at r.c). My dear Miriam, what ever have 
you been doing ? I begged you not to let anybody 

pass, and now {He catches sight of Molly, and 

is taken altogether at a disadvantage.) You, Molly ! 
But I thought you'd gone for a walk with your 
father ! 

(Molly hastens to ttie door with trembling lip.) 

Molly. No. I — I only wish I had done. 

{She turns and goes hurriedly from the room.) 

Brent [crossing over to the fireplace) . Damnation ! 
Now the fat is in the fire — in every sense of the word I 

Miriam (joining him). I couldn't help it, Kit. I 
did my best ; but she would insist on coming out to 
find you — and then 

Brent. Never mind that, now. We haven't 
time. You'd better take this for the moment. 

(He hands her a small paper rolled cartridge-wise.) 

I only just managed to take it from under the bird's 
leg, and to put the other in its place, before Fritz 
pounced down upon me like a wild beast. 

(Voices, angry and excited, are heard from the garden. 
They grow more distinct.) 

Ah ! Now for a scene ! You'd better leave 'em to 
me. 

(Miriam nods her head in understanding, and goes out 
by the door.) 

(Fritz and Mrs. Sanderson enter by the window. 
They are both excited — the former abnormally so. 
He bears in his hand a dead carrier pigeon. Brent 
becomes immediately, the." peculiar idiot" of former 
scenes.) 

(Fritz advances down stage r.) 



THb: MA:^ who stayed ET home. 89 

(Mrs. Sanderson moves to the top of the table.) 

Fritz. Now he shall say ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. You must leave me to sDeak 
to Mr. Brent, P>itz. 

Brent [at l.c). I suppose you've come to ask 
me about that poor little pigeon — what ? ^ Y'know 
I'm most awfully sorry about it — I really am ! 
It was all Mrs. Lee's fault. She was chippin' me 
about my shootin' — ^said if I shot at a pigeon I'd 
kill a crow, don'cherknow. Well, that put me on my 
mettle, so I Vv^ent out and aimed at the first pigeon 
that I saw— and, by Gad, I hit it ! 

Fritz (fondling the limp body). Mein pest, mein 
most peautiful pird ! 

Brent. Well, I can't say more than that I'm 
most frightfully sorry — and/of course, I'll put the 
matter right — pay for it, and all that sort of thing, 
y'know. 

Mrs. Sanderson. It is impossible to say what 
the bird was worth. It had won championships all 
over the country. 

Brent. Well, you put a fancy price on it, Mrs. 
Sanderson. I won't complain. It's a rule of Ufe, 
y'know, that one always has to pay through the 
nose for one's little errors. 

(Mrs. Sanderson turns impatiently up c.) 

(Fritz pushes aside the chair r. of the table, which 
is in his way, and advances tipon Brent threaten- 
ingly.) 

Fritz. A leetle error vos it ? I am not so sure. 

Brent [standing over him in' high indignation). 
What the devil d'you mean ? 

Fritz. I think you ondershtand qvite veil vot 
it iss I mean. You play de fool. You vos not 
him ! 

(Brent timis indig?mntly to Mrs. Sanderson.) 
Brent. Look here, I'm damned if I'm goin' to 



90 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

have a bally waiter talkin' to me like that. I'm 
amazed that you allow it, Mrs. Sanderson. You 
forget yourself, Fritz. You do, indeed. (He moves 
up to the door.) I've said that I'm sorry for the poor 
little bird — that I'll pay for the poor Httle bird — 
and there's an end of the poor little bird, so far as 
I'm concerned ! 

(He stalks, with a fine show of indignation, from the 
room.) 

(F RiTZ walks after him to the door, and places the dead 
pigeon on the small table beside it.) 

Fritz. Oh, it iss ended, mein friend, iss it ? Ve 
shall see ! 

Mrs. Sanderson (dropping down l.). Fritz, you 
must learn to control yourself. If Brent was danger- 
ous before, you've made him ten times more danger- 
ous now. You've played right into his hand. 

Fritz. It iss not for long he shall be dangerous. 

(He runs the tip of his finger round his throat.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. Don't be ridiculous ! . . . You 
say the paper is still safe. 
Fritz. I show you. 

(He brings the bird down from the table, and holding 
it by the tip of its wing, discloses the dummy message.) 

He is dere, vere I put him. 

Mrs. Sanderson. If Brent had been a spy he 
would have taken it. 

Fritz {much disappointed). Ja ! I no dink of 
dat. 

(He walks slowly back to the small table and replaces the 
pigeon upon it.) 

Mrs. Sanderson (her face to the door). You see, 
Fritz, how absurd you are. If, Mr. Brent 

(A movement of the door handle catches her eye, 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 91 

she continues rapidly, almost without a perceptible 

break — ) 
— and for to-morrow's breakfast, haddocks, I think, 
Fritz ; or, no — we had haddocks yesterday, didn't 
we ? — I think it had better be — er — you wish to see 
me, Mr. Brent ? 

{She turns with a smile to Brent, who has entered as 
she was giving her directions, and has walked down to 
the desk, supposedly in search of his pipe.) 

Brent {as he crosses to the fireplace). No, thanks 
— sorry to interrupt — but I think I left my pipe 
on the mantelpiece. . . . No, it isn't there. Now, 

where the devil ? Oh, I remember. I left it on 

the seat in the garden. I'll just go and get it. 

{He goes out by the window.) 

Fritz {excitedly). He vos leesten at de keyhole ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. Nonsense. 

Fritz {immensely contemptuous). 'Is pipe ! . . . 
I vatch 'im. 

(Mrs. Sanderson shrugs her shoulders.) 

(Fritz hurries over to the window, steps out on to the 
verandah, and follows Brent's actions with his 
eyes. A brief pause before Fritz comes back into 
the room, obviously crestfallen. He closes the 
windows behind him.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. Well, did he really go for his 
pipe ? 

Fritz {despondently). Ja ; he get it. 

(Fraulein Schroeder enters, greatly excited. She 
hastens doivn stage to Mrs. Sanderson.) 

Fraulein. I have just heard. Was it the 
carrier ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes. 

Fraulein. Ai, ai, ai, ai, ai ! . . . And the map ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Safe, thank God ! 



92 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Fraulein. Thank God ! . . . You have seen 
Brent ? 

Mrs. vSanderson. Yes. 

Fraulein. What did he say ? 

Mrs. vSanderson. That it was an accident. 

Fritz {standing at the top of the table). A vunny 
accident ! 

Fraulein. You think he is a spy ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. No ; but Fritz — oh, I don't 
know what to think ! . . . I wish Carl were here. 

Fraulein. When does he return ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. He's due in at the station about 
six — Oh ! He'll be simply furious. 

Fritz. He vill dake dat Prent by de droat like 
he do me, undt shoak de life oudt off him ! 

{In the fading light the figure of Brent is seen for one 
half second upon the verandah — hut for one half 
second only. Then he crouches down behind the 
window, and disappears from view.) 

(Fritz moves down stage l. of the table.) 

Fraulein. Accident, or no accident, I like not 
the way that things are going. You have a telegram 
from Carl. What says he of to-night ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. The troops are coming through. 
The emergency signal must be given. 

Fraulein. At what hour ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. It must be plainly seen at the 
first hour of the morning. 

Fritz. De house ?— it purns to-nighd ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes. 

Fritz. Oh, dat ces fine ! . Seex fat English pigs 
roast in deir peds ! — undt de spy — how he vill crackle ! 
{He snaps his fingers illustratively.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. No, no, Fritz, don't ! {She 
shudders and tarns aside to the fireplace.) Oh, it's too 
horrible ! Is there no other signal we can give ? 

Fraulein. None. It is necessary for our safety 
and for the success of our plans that nobody but 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 93 

those to whom we send it shall ever guess the signal 
is a signal. It must be natural — and what more 
natural than that a house catch fire ? It happens 
every day in every place, it is simple, it is sure, and 
it is safe. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But, surely, there is some 
warning we can give the others ? 

Fraulein. After what has happened ? — It would 
be madness ! Why should you mind ? They are 
your enemies. And — think ! — if this signal should 
miscarry it is the sons of the Fatherland will suffer. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes, you're quite right. The 
cause demands it. (She pulls herself together and 
turns to Fritz.) Where is the petrol stored ? 

Fritz. In de small, empty room. 

Mrs. Sanderson (to Fritz). Mr. Carl will give 
you his orders. Do nothing until you have heard 
from him. (She turns to Fraulein Schroeder.) You 
have packed, Luise ? 

Fraulein. Everything. After twenty long years 
of exile I return to my own land. (She draws her 
handkerchief from her belt, and dabs at her eyes.) 
It is too good — too good ! 

Mrs. Sanderson. What about your drawings ? 

Fraulein. They are here. (She takes thein from 
her bag, and gives them to Fritz.) I have addressed 
them. They are all ready. You will post them. 

(Fritz takes the letter, slips it into his pocket, and 
moves up to the door.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. You are sending them to 
London ? 

Fraulein. To our good friend, Mr. Smith. From 
him they go to Holland, and from Holland to Berlin. 
It is so simple. (She presses her hand to her forehead.) 
I think I go now to rest until the dinner hour. (She 
turns towards the door.) 

Fritz. Ah, but we forget — de guard upon de 



94 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

cliff — Meesler Pennicake — he see de fire — he make 
alarm. 

Fraulein. He must not see the fire, Fritz. 

Fritz. Undt who will stop him ? 

Fraulein. You will. 

Fritz. Ach, goodt, I ondcrstandt. . . . Undt, 
afterwards, we meet in London, hein ? 

Fraulein. In London. Your passport will be 
ready. 

Fritz. Undt der monies ? ' 

Fraulein. And the money. 

(Mrs. Sanderson moves to iJic door with Fraulein 
Schroeder.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. Tidy up the room before you 
go, Fritz. . . . And you'd better open the window ; 
the room's very stuff}^ 

(Mrs. Sanderson and Fraulein Schroeder go out.) 

(Fritz goes to the windows, unlatches them, and throws 
them open. The chairs at the head of and r. of the 
table have been ptished away from it. He puts them 
in position again. Having done so he crosses 'to 
the fireplace, and picks out of the grate the two 
crumpled newspapers that Preston flung into it. 
In taking these back to the table, he drops one. R. of it ; 
havi7tg smoothed the creases from the one which he 
has retained, he drops on one knee in order to retrieve 
the other. This gives Brent his opportunity. He 
tiptoes into the room from the verandah, folding into a 
bandage as he advances, the silk handkerchief which 
Preston dropped and wJiich he pocketed earlier 
in the act. He pounces upon Fritz, plants a knee in 
the small of his back, and ties the handkerchief 
tightly about his eyes. Holding him in a firm grip 
he pinions his arms by pulling his coat from the 
shoulders half way down his back. Then, having 
extracted from his waistcoat pocket the envelope 
containing the plans, he spins about him as one does 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 95 

the " blind ma7i " in a game of" Blind Man's Buff," 
and escapes with all speed by the window. As Fritz 
tears the bandage from his eyes, Carl enters by the 
door. He wears a dustcoat and carries a small 
suit-case. It has become dusk, and Fritz — still 
giddy, and failing to recognize his master in the half- 
light — takes him for his assailant, and flings himself 
viciously upon him. Carl thrusts him back with 
an exclamation of anger and amazement, and switches 
on the light. Perceiving whom he has attacked, 
Fritz is overwhelmed by apprehension.) 

Fritz (at r.c). Mr. Carl ! Oh, sir, forgive me 

Carl. What the devil's the matter with, you ? 
Fritz. A moment ago ve vos alone here — Fraulein 
Schroecler, Mrs. Sanderson, undt me. Fraulein 
Schroeder she giff to me a letter mit plans to posd. 
She go out. I am left by meinselves. I tidy de 
room. Suddenly — from nowhere — someones spring 
upon me. He break mein back in twice. He tie dis 
handkerchief about mein eyes. Von second only undt 
I tear it off. But it iss too late. He iss gone 

{A sudden misgiving causes him to iitterrupt himself. 
He feels in his waistcoat-pocket .) 

— Mein Gott ! It is gone too ! 

Carl. What's gone ? 

Fritz. De letter dat Fraulein Schroeder give to 
me to posd— de plans ! 

(Carl advances upon Fritz menacingly, as though 
about to strike him.) 

(Fritz cringes. Carl regards him with contempt, 
then turns abruptly on his heel, a7id strides over to 
the fireplace.) 

Carl. Good God, v/hat a damiued fool you are ! 
First the Marconi — now the plans ! Who is it — ■ 
who the devil is it ? 

Fritz. It is Prent. 

Carl {with angry impatience). Pshaw ! 



06 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Fritz. It must be Prcnt, 

Carl. Why ? 

FRitz. He shoot de pigeon. {He takes the dead 
bird from the table and displays it.) Mit mein own 
eyes I seen him. 

Carl {advancing l.c. towards him). What ? 

Fritz {stroking the bird's feathers). De last Pots- 
dam carrier — mein most peautiful pird ! 

Carl {in intense anxiety). Then that map I gave 
you? 

Fritz. Ah no ! I hafi him here. 

(He taps his pocket.) 

(Carl turns from him impatiently and paces across 
stage c. doivn R. a7id in front of the table to L.). 

Carl. What's the use of that ? The delay ! — 
the delay !— It's fatal ! Oh, God ! Why did I ever 
go away ? The work of months ruined — ruined ! — 
and all by a fatuous fool with an eyegFass ? — I don't 
believe it. Let me have a look at that handkerchief. 

{He advances L.c.) 

(Fritz unties the knot, and holds the handkerchief out 
to him. Carl takes it into his hand, and scru- 
tinizes it very carefully.) 

Silk, eh ? Well, anybody might use a silk handker- 
chief. {He examines the four corners for some dis- 
tinguishing mark.) There's no name on it. {He 
lifts it to his nostrils.) Pah ! Scent and tobacco ! 
Horrible ! 

Fritz {excitedly). Meester Prent he use it. 1 see 
a pottle on his dressing-table. 

(Carl looks iip sharply at the sound of somebody 
idiistling clieerfiirlly outside the ivindovv. Brent 
appears on the verandah.) 

Ckri. {significantly). H m I Well, we'll soon find 
out. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 97 

{He thrusts the handkerchiej into his pocket, and signs 
to Fritz to go. In the most leisurely manner possible 
Brent strolls into the room.) 

Brent (very cheerfully). Ah, so you're back again, 
Sanderson. Jolly pleased to see you. We haven't 
had our little chat about the war yet. 

(Carl takes off his overcoat, and tosses it into the 
armchair. His manner is entirely friendly.) 

Carl. Oh, don't let's talk shop just now. I'm 
dead sick of it. Had an awful tiring day. 
Brent [seating himself). Right 'o ! 

(Carl takes a cigar-case from his pocket, and moving 
over to the table, holds it out to. Brent.) 

Carl. Have a cigar ? 

Brent. No, thanks — never smoke 'em. 

(Carl draws out a chair l. of the table, and sits down.) 

Carl. Are you a cigarette-fiend ? 

Brent. No, I'm a piper. {He takes his pipe from 
his pocket and handles it lovingly.) Here's my best 
pal in the world. We're absolutely inseparable. 

{The two sit down opposite to one another, and light up.) 

Carl. What sort o' tobacco d'you smoke ? 

Brent. A special mixture that a httle tobacconist 
makes up for me. 

Carl. Scented, isn't it ? 

Brent {holding the bowl of his pipe close to his nose) . 
No, I don't think so. 

{Quite unostentatiously Carl takes from his pocket 
the handkerchief with which Fritz was blindfolded.) 

Carl. Most people jeer at scented tobacco, but I 
rather like it myself. Depends on the scent, of course. 
There's nothing delights me more than a really good 
perfume.* Effeminate habit, I suppose — but I always 
use it on my handkerchief. 

G 



98 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent [expressing as much polite interest as can 
he cqnveyed in a monosyllable). Ah! 
Carl. Do you ? 
Brent. Occasionally. 

(The door opens and Preston enters.) 

Preston {in the doorways). Ah ! So you've man- 
aged to get back, Sanderson. That's splendid. 
Telling Brent the latest news from Towti, eh ? 

{tie scats himself at the head of the table.) 

Carl. No, as a matter of fact, we were discussing 
perfumes. 

Preston. Perfumes! . . . That's a curious topic, 
isn't it ? 

Carl {sniffing at the handkerchief). A\mo&t as 
curious as this. 

{He unfolds the handkerchief and holds it out towards 
Brent, observing him closely the while.) 

Is this yours, Brent ? 

(Brent shakes his head. He appears uninterested 
and unconcerned.) 

Brent. No. 

(Preston, having adjusted his glasses, recognizes the 
handkerchief as his. He rises fro7n his chair, and 
grabs at it.) 

Preston. No — damme ! — it's mine. 

{He blows his nose upon it, and sits down again.) 

(Carl thrusts back his chair, springs to his feet, and 
turns upon Preston a look of absolute stupefaxtion . 
His back is turned to the audience and to Brent, 
w/^o is shaken with silent laughter as he re-lights his 
pipe.) 

The Curtain Falls. 



ACT III 

Scene I 
Scene. — The same as in the previous acts. 

It is after dinner. The windoivs are closed and the 
curtains drawn. 

Brent and Miriam are alone in the room. They 
both look very grave and talk in quick decisive tones. 

-VliRiAM sits in the armchair beside the fireplace. Brent 
stands near by coiling up his d elect ophone so as to 
enable him to fit it into its box. 

Miriam. And do you mean to tell me that you 
actually heard them pkmning to do that ? 

Brent. Yes — thanks to my patent eavesdropper. 

Miriam. But it's fiendish — devilish ! 

Brent. These people stick at nothing. 

Miriam. I knovv-. But this is sheer, cold-blooded 
murder. 

(Brent places the deteciophone on the small table by 
the door.) 

BRiiKi. Ii"^ war. 

(Miriam shudders in horror.) 

Miriam. Oh ! (A pause.) Kit, surely \'ou'll have 
them arrested now ? 

(Brent conies down stage l. to the table.) 

Brent. When the time comes. 
99 



100 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miriam. Now ! 

Brent. My dear girl, we're after bigger fish than 
the Sandersons. If we .were to net the smaller fry 
now, the real prize might \^ery easily slip through our 
fingers. 

Miriam. How ? 

Brent. They'd contrive to send some warning 
to their friends. You can bet your boots that 
they've left nothing to chance. 

Miriam. No, it's you who 're taking chances. 

Brent (seating himself i.. of table). Well ? 

Miriam. Chances you're not justified in taking. 
Supposing anything goes wrong ? 

Brent. It's not going wrong. 

Miriam. But supposing it does. What's going 
to happen to the others ? What's going to happen 
to — to Miss Preston ? 

Brent. Look here, Miriam, there's nothing on 
earth to worry about. Everything's in our favour. 
We're forewarned and forearmed, and if we can't 
avert a catastrophe now, well — we're a precious 
couple of muddlers, that's all. 

Miriam. But surely we ought to give them some 
warning ? 

Brent. And keep the Sandersons in blissful 
ignorance ? xMy dear girl, it can't be done. 

(Miriam rises. She stands with one foot on the foot- 
stool, raising her arm upon the mantelshelf.) 

Think of old Preston, think of Miss Myrtle— if we 
told them. Why, wc should have a perfect panic 
in the place ! 

Miriam. I'm thinking more of Miss Preston. 

(Brent rises, and crosses over to her.) 

Brent. Do you think that I'm not thinking of 
her, too ? {He paused and then lays his hand on 
Miriam's shoulder.) Look here, Miriam, whenever 
we've worked together before, you've always trusted 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 101 

in me impliritly not to make any blunders. Won't 
3'ou go on trusting in me ? 

(Miriam iimis a troubled face to mn^.^ 

Miriam. Yes, of course I will, Kit, only 

Brent. There mustn't be an " only." 
(His tone gives confidence to Miria^i. She smiles 
gravely, and places her right hand over his.) 
Miriam. All right, there shan't be. . . . What do 
vou want me to do ? 

' Brext. I want you to go up to bed m the ordmary 
way, just as if nothing had happened. I'll do the 
rest, and — 
(.4s the door opens suddenly to admit Carl, who comes 

down R.) 
—would you believe it, he actually went three no 
trumps ! 

UiRiAM (banteringly). How disgraceful !_ 
Brent (who has once more adopted his role of 
"The peculiar idiot"). It was ! He hadn't got a 
spade in his hand ! • i ^ o 

Carl. Are vou going to have a rubber to-night ; 
Bre^t {timiing to him) . No, not to-night. Mrs. 
Lee has challenged me to a game of snooker. We've 
got a pair of gloves on it. ,„ r j ..i, 

Carl. Ah— an exciting match. You 11 find the 
table at liberty now. I've just finished a game with 
Mr. Preston. 

Brent. Good! (To Miriam.) Then we 11 go at 

once, shall we ? 

Miriam. Yes, let's ! 
Brent takes Miriam hv the arm, and leads her tip i^. 

to the door. He holds the door open for her. She 

goes out. He pauses to pick up the box containing 

his detect ophone and follows her.) 
(Carl, who is smoking a cigar, strolls across stage L. 

and watches them out. Until the door is closed upon 



102 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

them he appears quite cheerful, hut the moment that 
he is left alone, he drops his mask, and shows himself 
worried and perplexed. He pauses irresolutely 
for a moment, before going down to the desk r. He 
seats himself before it, and opening a little drawer, 
takes from it some papers. Almost in the same 
moment he hears the sound of approaching footsteps, 
and makes haste to thrust the papers back into the 
drawer. He has barely time to close the drawer 
before Mrs. Sanderson and Fraulein Schroede-r 
enter by the door.) 

Mrs. Sanderson (indicating that they are unaccom- 
panied by any of her guests). All right, Carl. [She 
comes down l.c.) Well ? 

Carl {moodily). Well ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. You have found out nothing 
more ? 

{She seats herself l. of the table.) 

Carl. No. The Preston idea is ridiculous. It 
must be Brent — and yet 

Fraulein [who has come down r. of the table). 
What about Mrs. Lee ? 

Mrs. Sanderson {amazed). Mrs. Lee ? 

12' (Carl twists around in his chair, then rises.) 

Carl, By Gad, I never thought of her. 

(Fraulein draws out a chair r. of table, and sits down.) 

Fraulein. We know nothing of her. A tele- 
gram — no more — and she arrive. She comes from 
goodness knows where, she do goodness knows what 
— it is not such a bad idea — hein ? 

(Carl draws his chair nearer to the table. He sits 
astride of it, resting his arms upon the back.) 

Carl. Not at all. And she and Brent are as 
thick as thieves. Why shouldn't they be working 
together ? 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 103 

Fraulein {wisely). No, no, he like her. She 
make use of him. For the rest — he has not the brains, 

Mrs. Sanderson. I don't feel certain. Oh, if 
only we could make sure. 

Fraulein {confidently). It is very simple. 

Carl {sceptically). Indeed ! Then perhaps you'll 
tell us. 

Fraulein. With pleasure ... I am growing 
old, but I am as yet no fool. {She lays the index finger 
of her right hand along her nose.) . . , There is 
Miss Preston. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Miss Preston ? 

Fraulein. Is she not in love with Brent ? 

Carl. Well, what about it ? 

Fraulein. Suppose we tell her that we have 
reason to believe that Brent is a spy in the pay of 
Germany. 

Carl. T'chah ! She'll laugh at us. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Wait a minute, Carl. He has 
not explained yet why he cannot enlist. Miss 
Preston will think of that. There must be a reason. 

Fraulein. Exactly. She will confront him, and 
if he does not satisfy her 

Carl {impatiently). My dear Fraulein 

Fraulein. Wait. We tell Mr. Preston first, and 
suggest he warn his daughter. You want Brent 
out of the way to-night, do you not ? Well, Preston 
is a magistrate. He does not love Brent. Unless 
Brent is very clever, he have him arrested at once, 
upon suspicion. 

Cakl {grudgingly). Yes, there's something in that. 

Mrs. Sanderson. But what ground for our 
suspicions can we give to Preston ? 

Fraulein. The truth. 

Mrs. Sanderson {flabbergasted). The truth? 

Fraulein. As I say. ... Is not Carl a servant 
of the English Admiralty ? Does he not lose here 
valuable papers ? 
(Carl chuckles and draws his chair nearer to the table.) 



104 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Carl. By Jove, Fraulein, now that's really- 
clever ! 

(Fraulein 's rejoinder is prevented by Fritz who 
Hirsts into the room in an intense state of excitement.) 

(He hastens down stage r. to Carl.) 

Fritz. Meester Carl, sare ! Madam ! De map ! 
It ees not dat I tie to de pigeon's leg ! Shust now I 
examine him mit mein udder papers, midt I findt — 
dis! 

(Carl springs to his feet, and thrusts back his chair.) 

Carl. Damnation ! Let's have a look at it. 

(Fritz gives it to him.) 

No, by Gad — it's a substitute blank — and a damned 
clever one — waterproof silk and all ! That proves 
it. 

{He hands it back to Fritz, who takes it over to the 
table, and displays it to Mrs. Sanderson and 
Fraulein.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. It is Brent, then ! 
Carl. It must be. 
Fraulein. Why not make certain ? 
Carl. We will. 

{He brings from the desk an ash-tray and howl of 
matches, and places them upon the table. To 
Fritz — ) 

Take m}/ compliments to Mr. Preston, and tell him I 
shall be glad if he will come in here, and — er — smoke 
a cigar v/ith me. 

Fritz. Very good, sare. 

Carl. See that we are not disturbed. 

Fritz. Yes, sare. 

(Miss Myrtle enters as Fritz is about to go out.) 



THE MAN WHO STx\YED AT HOME. 105 

{He holds the door open fov her, and then exits, closing 
it behind him.) 

Miss Myrtle. I've just come in to say good-night. 

{She advances down stage l.c. Mrs. Sanderson rises 
and crosses to l.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. You're going to bed unusually 
early. 

(Miss Myrtle moves down stage l. towards her.) 

' Miss Myrtle.* I need the rest. I'm rather a light 
sleeper, as you know. And last night Mr. Brent 
awakened me when he came upstairs. I'm sure he'd 
be most upset if he knew of it, so I haven't said a 
word, but I didn't get to sleep again for several hours. 

(Fraulein rises from the table.) 

Fraulein. Shall I give you a little remedy I 
have ? It will ensure sound repose. 

(Miss Myrtle leaves Mrs. Sanderson and crosses to 
Fraulein at r. of the table.) 

Miss Myrtle. Ah, thank you. It would indeed 
be good of you. 

{She moves down to Carl al r. and shakes hands with 

him.) 
Good-night, Mr. Sanderson. 

(Fraulein crosses' to Mrs. Sanderson, whispers a 
few hasty words to her, and then moves to the door.) 

Carl. Good-night. I hope you will sleep better. 
Miss Myrtle. Thank you, I hope so. 

{She crosses below the table to Mrs. Sanderson with 
outstretched hand.) 

Good-night, dear Mrs. Sanderson. 

(Mrs. Sanderson takes her hand, and moves two 
steps ^ip stage L. with her. Her uneasiness is 
evident.) 



100 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Do you think it quite wise to 
take a sleeping-draught ? 

(Fraule^in turns sharplyrwith a frown of annoyance..) 

Fraulein. Oh, this is nothing. It will but 
produce healthy and natural sleep. 
Miss Myrtle. So very comforting. 

{She goes to the door, turns on the threshold, smiles 
and nods to everybody separately, murmurs a final 
"good-night," and goes out, followed by Fraulein.) 

(There is a moment's silence. Carl and his mother, 
looks at one another.) 

Carl {callously as he crosses to c, and sits on the 
table). vShe won't be much loss. 

Mrs. Sanderson {in protest, as she crosses to him). 
Oh, Carl, it's horrible ! If only nobody had inter- 
fered ! . . . I don't like — murder, Carl. 

Carl. Sh ! 

{He rises and puts an arm about her shoulders. They 
lijalk slowly down stage L.) 

It is not for us to judge, mother. We must obey. 

(Preston enters. Mrs. Sanderson smiles on him 
mechanically, while Carl goes forward to greet 
him.) 

Preston {at c). Fritz tells me you have been kind 
enough to invite me to have a cigar with you. 

Carl {advancing towards him). Yes, we desire the 
pleasure of your company, and the benefit of your 
wise counsel. 

{He holds out his cigar case.) 

Preston. Very nice of you. 

{He accepts a cigar, takes a match from the bowl upon 
the table, lights his cigar, and walks down R. of the 
table.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. Do sit down, Mr. Preston. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 107 

Preston. Thank you. 

[He seats himself R. of the table. Carl sits at the top 
and Mrs. Sanderson l. of table. After puffing 
luxuriously at his cigar for a moment — ) 

Well, now, Avhat can I do for you ? 

Mrs. S.^nderson. We're in somewhat of an 
awkward predicament, Mr. Preston. 

Preston. Indeed ! I'm very sorry to hear that. 

Carl. When I came down from London last 
night, I brought with me certkin important docu- 
ments — Government secrets. They have disappeared. 

Preston. Disa ! 'Pon my word, you don't 

say so. 

Carl. It's true, unfortunately. 

Preston. And you think they've been — er-- 

Carl. Stolen ! 

Preston. Dear, dear, dear ! You have your 
suspicions ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. We have a very grave suspicion 
that one of our number is a sp3\ 

Preston. A German spy ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. Yes. 

Preston. Somebody in this house ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. One of my guests. 

Preston. Oh no, no, no, surely not. Surely 
you're mistaken. 

Mrs. Sanderson. I'm afraid not. 

Preston. But — er — there are only — let's see — 
five of us. (He ticks them off upon his fingers.) My 
daughter — Miss Myrtle — Brent— Mrs. Lee — and — er 
— good gracious ! You don't mean to say you've 
got the damned impertinence to suggest that I 

(He puts his cigar down upon the ash-tray, and springs 
to his feet in a fine fury of indignation. Carl 
rises, also, with deprecating hand.) 

Carl. My dear sir 



Preston (violently). Don't you " dear sir " me, 



108 THE MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

sir ! . . . Ah, that accounts for it ! That explains 

why your confounded waiter ! How dare you ? 

How dare you get me in here, and — and — and ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. My dear Mr. Preston, it's not 
you that we suspect. 

Preston. Oh — oh — it's not me, eh ? Well, I'm 
glad to hear it. Then who the devil is it ? 

(He sits down again. Carl follows his example.) 

Carl. We suspect Mr. Brent 

Preston. Brent ! Brent ! But he hasn't the 
brains ! 

Carl. And possibly, also, Mrs. Lee. 

Preston. Mrs. Lee, too ! Dear, dear, this is 
very disturbing. 

Mrs. Sanderson. The matter, you see, is as 
delicate as it is important. We don't want to make 
a mistake, and 

Preston. Precisely, precisely. {He assumes a 
very knowing manner.) Brent, eh ? Brent ! This 
would explain his inability to give us a reason for not 
enlisting. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Entirely. 

Preston. Only this very day I warned my 
daughter 

Carl. Your daughter — ah, yes. Don't you think 
that she might be induced to help us ? 

Preston {astonished). Molly ? 

Carl. From what my mother has told me, I 
have gathered that she has more influence with him 
than anybody else. 

Preston. Perhaps — perhaps. But— er — I don't 
want to make a fool of myself. . , . How do you 
know that Brent's got the papers ? 

Carl. We don't. We only suspect. Your 
daighter could make certain. 

Preston. M'yes. But I doubt if she'll consent. 
Besides 



THE MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 109 

Mrs. Sanderson. We mustn't forget that Mrs. 
Lee is involved in this suspicion, too. 

Preston. What are her relations with Brent ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. From what I have seen, I 
should say — well — er 

{Her gesture is more eloquent than any words.) 

Preston. Ah ! If only one could prove that, it 
would certainly cure Molly of ^her undesirable 
attachment. 

Mrs. Sanderson. If I may speak for my sex I 
should say that even a hint of it would be sufficient 
to make her determined to find out the truth. 

Preston. Set a woman to catch a woman, eh ? 
—Particularly when there's a man in the case ! 

{He chuckles, well pleased by his quip. Mrs. Sander- 
son and Carl feel compelled to smile politely.) 

Carl. Now you will understand, Mr. Preston, 
why we have come to you to help us. We feel that 
you are the man to handle the situation authori- 
tatively and dehcately. 

Preston {smacking his lips). Dehcately— ah ! 

Carl. And until you can assure us that we have 
good reason to act for ourselves, we— — 

Preston {as he rises, and moves down stage R.) 
You leave it. to me— entirely to me. 

{A^glance of triumph passes between Carl and his 
mother. ]\Irs. Sanderson rises and moves up 
stage L. to the door. Preston continues.) 

It will afford me the utmost satisfaction to draw a 
very secure net round this— this viper m sheep s 
clothing. 

{He turns and observes that Mrs. Sanderson is 
about to leave the room.) 

If you are going out, Mrs. Sanderson, you might ask 
my daughter to come to me, here. 



no THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson. With pleasure. 

(She goes out by the door.) 

Preston. By George, if there's anything in this. 
Brent shall be laid safely by the heels to-night. 

(Carl rises, pushes his chair hack under the table, 
and going up to the windoiv, draws hack the curtains. 
He answers Preston with a smile — ) 

Carl. You mustn't forget that he's innocent until 
you've proved him guilty. 

Preston {moving over to the fireplace). Quite so, 
quite so — but even if it only looks suspicious, we'll 
lock him up — we'll lock him up at once. 

(Carl smiles again, well satisfied. He throws open 
the windows.) 

{It is high tide, and the waves are heard breaking upon 
the beach. The night is perfect and the light of a 
full moon is reflected in a silver pathway on the sea.) 

Preston. You must look out for the guard, you 
know. 

(Carl displays a white pockethandker chief.) 

Carl. I've got my white flag ready in case of 
emergency — perhaps we'll meet later. 

Preston {moving towards the windows). We must. 

Carl. When it's just possible that you may have 

{He pauses and laughs significantly)'- — information 

useful to the enemy. 

{He goes out, and Preston, having closed tJie windows, 
strides up a7id down the room, puffing furiously at his 
cigar. Molly enters by the door.) 

Preston. Ah ! There you are ! 
Molly. Mrs. Sanderson told me that you've 
something important to say to me. 

(Preston takes her by the arm, and leads her down 
stage l. to the armchair.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. Ill 

Preston. I have — very — of international im- 
portance — grave — very grave importance. Sit down. 

(Molly obeys. Preston becomes darkly mysterious.) 

Molly {with mock concern). It all sounds very 
thrilling. What is it ? 

Preston (l.c. above her). It concerns yom- — your 
late admirer, Christopher Brent. 

Molly {wearily). Oh, father ! Surely you're not 
going to start on that again. I'm so tired. 

Preston {bending over her chair — impressively). 
Had you any idea that you have been consorting with 
a spy ? 

Molly. A spy ! Whatever do you mean ? 

Preston. Just what I say. I have my reasons 
for believing that Brent is a spy in the pay of — well 
— a coi^try we need hardly name. 

(He moves away from her and seats himself l. of the 
table.) 

AIoLLY {laughing spontaneously). Oh, father I 
What on earth have you got hold of now ? 

Preston. This is no laughing matter, my child. 

(.4 sudden fear catches at Molly's heart. She becomes 
very grave. She rises and moves over to her father.) 

Molly. Father, you're — you're not serious, are 
you ? 

Preston. I was never more serious in m}^ life. 
Certain important documents which had been 
entrusted to the care of young Carl Sanderson have 
disappeared — plans I believe. 

Molly. But that isn't to say that Kit — — 

Preston. I know it isn't. I don't say that he has 
stolen them. I sincerely hope he hasn't. What I 
do say is that the finger of suspicion points in his 
direction, and in the direction of Mrs. Lee. 

Molly. Mrs. Lee ! {Excitedly.) Yes, I shouldn't 
be a bit surprised. 



112 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston. You wouldn't, eh ? 
Molly. But I don't believe it of Kit. Nothing 
'11 make me believe it ! 

(She turns away. Preston rises, and leads her down 
stage L.) 

Preston. Why are they so intimate, then ? 

Molly. Oh, well 

Preston. They're supposed to have met yesterday 
for the first time, aren't they ? 
Molly {reluctantly). Yes. 
Preston. Do you believe that ? 

{There comes a pause. Molly is silent. She turns 
from her father, unhappily, and hangs her head.) 

You don't. You know you don't. You can't. It's 
against all common sense and reason. ... If their 
acquaintance is quite innocent, why shouldn't they 
be open about it ? Why shouldn't they speak the 
truth ? 

{Another pause. Still Molly snakes no answer.) 

Then there's another thing. Why doesn't Brent 
enlist ? He says he can't. Very well, then, let him 
give us his reasons. He declines to do so. Doesn't 
it strike you — being my daughter and therefore no 
fool — that this supposition provides a reason — an 
indisputable reason ? 

(He crosses R. and awaits Molly's answer. None is 
forthcoming. He becomes impatient, and taps his 
fingers upon the table.) 

Well ? Haven't you anything to say ? 

(Molly turns and walks slowly below the table to her 
father. She is lost in thought, and speaks more to 
herself than to him.) 

Molly. Miriam Lee a spy ! 

(Her reflections culminate in a glad conclusion.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 113 

Then, father, if this is so, perhaps Kit doesn't care 

for her, and 

Preston (tctlerly at sea). What on earth d'you 
mean ? 

(Molly turns back again to l., still deep in reflection.) 

Molly. If Kit's a spy, and Miriam Lee is also a 

spy, then that would account for (Her mind is 

made up. She turns to her father with determination.) 
Father, I don't believe Kit is a spy ! I believe that 
woman's used him. She's the spy. 

Preston {moving down stage r. in front of the 
/able). Suspicion points primarily to Brent. 

(Molly ignores his challenge. She runs to the door.) 

Molly. Father, I've an idea ; I've suddenly 
thought of something. 

(Preston turns to face her.) 

Preston (irritably). You're — you're very jumpy ! 
What is it ? 
- Molly. I'll be back in a minute ! 

Preston. But, Molly ! 

(His protest is of no avail. Molly darts out of tJie 
room and flies past Brent, who is standing on the 
threshold, billiard-cue in hand. He steps back 
hastily, in order to avoid a collision, and stares after 
her retreating figure.) 

Brent (whimsically to Preston). I say, did I 
imagine it ? — or did something go past me ? 

Preston (stiffly). My daughter — er 

Brent. . Oh ! — imitation woman catchin' train ! 
— very difficult ! I've seen her do it before. 

(He comes into the room, and moves down to the 
mantelpiece.) 

Hope I'm not disturbing 3'Ou, but I've left my pipe 
in here again. 

H 



114 THE .AIAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

(He takes it from the mantelshelf, and pockets it.) 

I couldn't make out why I was playin' so badly. But 
that's it — my nerves — they want soothin'. 

{He turns to go. Preston gets between him and the 
door.) 

Preston. Don't run away. I want to speak to 
you. 

Brent. Awfully sorry, sir, but 

Preston. I shan't keep you a minute. 
Brent. Oh, all right. 

{He returns reluctantly.) 

Pri:ston. Been having a little flutter at snooker, 
eh ? 

(Brent leans over the table, taking a few practise shots 
with his cue. The match-bowl serves him for ball.) 

Brent. No, my flutterin' days are over. It's 
quite a long time since I hopped out o' the nest. 
But I've just lost a pair of gloves to Mrs. Lee. 

Preston {with ponderous humour). She caught 
you napping, eh ? 

, Brent. Eh ? . . . Oh, I don't mean what you 
mean ! I lost 'em to her at snooker. 

(Preston drops down stage l.) 

Preston. Ah, I see. She's a good player, then ? 

Brent. Not so much a good 'un as I'm a bad 'un. 

Preston. You've played with her before, of 
course ? 

Brent. No. 

Preston. But this isn't the first time that you've 
met, is it ? 

Brent. Yes. 

Preston. H'm, (.4 brief pause.) By the way, 
Brent, I'm afraid I was a bit hasty with you this 
afternoon. 

(Brent looks up at him in blank astonishment.) 



:;.:.. :.:.... ., no stayed at home. 115 

Bren i. I sa\-, what are you after ? 
pRi^TON ? I'm not after anything at all ! 

(He gulps down his indignation and jnoves over to 
Brent at the fable.) 

I just wanted to say to you that if you could give me 
some really sound excuse — some reasonable explana- 
tion of your conduct, I might be disposed to 

Brent. Look here ! You're not relentin', are 
you ? 

Preston (emphatically and instantly). Certainly 
not ! I was merely going to suggest that you might 
like to confide in me. There are circumstances in 
life in which an old head arid a generous heart might 
not be appealed to in vain. 

Brent. Look here, if you're referrin' to my feelin's 
for your daughter, I call it deuced generous of you, 
I do indeed. 

Presjon (" diplomacy " deserting him). I am not, 
Brent ! I am not referring to my daughter. I think 
it onl3^ fair to warn you that, after what you are 
about to hear from my daughter's lips, I consider it 
extreme^ unlikely that you will ever speak of your 
feelings for her again ! 

Brent {lUterly bewilder ed). Well, Fm — I'm — — ! 

Preston. If, sir, you are so brazen 

Brent. B — brazen ! 

Preston [endeavouring to control himself). I 
should have said if you are so reckless as to miss this 
opportunity of begging my advice — -possibly even my 
assistance — I — I am sorry for you — extremely sorry. 

(Brent drops down stage r., and surveys Preston in 
supreme astonishmeiit . ) 

Brent {after, a brief silence). D'you knov/, I 
haven't the faintest notion what I ought to say. 
I've no doubt it's very stupid of me, and all that, 
but I haven't the dimmest, remotest, foggiest idea 
what 3''ou've been talkin' about. 



116 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston {turning az^^ay l.). Then all I've got to 
say to you, sir, is that you must be more of a fool 
t.ian a knave. 

Brent. I say, I don't know if 3'ou know it, but 
you're bein' beastly rude ! 

Preston {turning hack r.) . And when my daughter 
has explained matters, as 

(Molly re-enters hy the door.) 

as she is about to do, you will — er — er- 



{He hesitates, and glares vindictively at Brent. )( 

(Molly looks from one man to the other. She divines 
that all is not as it should be.) 

Molly {moving down to Preston at l.). What 
have 3'^ou been saying, father ? 

Brent. Yes, what have you been sayin', father ? 

Preston. Well — er — er 

Molly. Daddy, leave me to talk to Mr. Brent. 

{She crosses to the fireplace.) 

Preston {grudgingly). Oh, very well, very well. 

{He twits towards the door.) 

Brent. I sa\^ if you're really goin', you might 
take my cue, and console Mrs. Lee for a while. I 
left her badly in the lurch, y'know. 

Preston {very stiffly). I will request Mrs. Lee to 
excuse you. 

{He takes Brent's cue from him, and goes out.) 

{There is an awkward pause before Brent says 
u nco mfo rtably — ) 

Brent {at r.c). I — I suppose you want me to 
explain about this afternoon ? 

Molly {coldly, despite herself) . This afternoon ? 
No — what is there to explain ? 

Brent {down r.). Oh, nothing — only — I thought 
perhaps {He decides not to pursue the subject.) I 



THE MAN" WHO STAYED AT HOME. 117 

say, Molly, what's the matter with your father? 
I nevecwas so — well, upon my word, he ! 

Molly. He's worried. 

Brent {leaning against the hack of the chair at the 
desk). He's worried me. 

Molly (laughing a trifle nervously). Kit, you know 
how funny father is. 

{She comes to L. of the table.) 

Brent. Yes, it's a humour all his own. What's 
his latest ? 

Molly. He's— he's {She laughs again a 

little more hysterically.) 

Brent {looking at her quietly). Well ? 

Molly {as she seats herself l. of the table). Oh, it s 
too absurd for words ! 

Brent. Sure to be. But what is it ? 

Molly. Spies ! He's got them on the bram. 

Brent {as he lights his pipe). Spies on the bram ! 
. . . What a nasty place to have them ! 

Molly. He even suspects that there's one m this 

house. 

Brent {hugely amused). No! You don t mean 
that ? Ha ! Ha ! By Jove, now, that really is 
funny ! 
{They both laugh— he heartily, she very hysterically.) 

Molly. Yes, it's— it's very funny, isn't it ? 

Brent {crossing to R. of the table). Toppm' ! ^ 

Molly. Of course, you don't think it's possible :• 

Brent. Well, everything's possible, of course, 
but I should say that it's extraordinarily unlikely. 
Whatever's put the idea into his head ? 

Molly. It's Carl Sanderson. 

Brent. Carl Sanderson ! . . . Oh, nonsense ! 

Molly. No, no, I don't mean that he suspects 
him. but Mr. Sanderson has lost a very important 
document — State document. 

Brent {seating himself R. of the table). Has he, by 
Jove ! 



118 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Molly. And of course it's — it's very awkward. 

Brent. Must be — poor chap ! When did he 
miss it ? 

Molly. I don't know — some time to-day, I 
suppose. 

Brent. H'm — that's queer !— I'll bet I know 
who 3^our father thinks it is. 

Molly. Who ? 

Brent. Why, poor old Fraulein Schroeder. 

Molly, No, he doesn't suspect Fraulein Schroeder. 

Brent. ATo^ Fraulein Schroeder ! . . . Well, then, 
of course, it's Fritz. But — dash it all — he's 

Molly. It isn't Fritz. 

Brent. Not dear old Myrtle ? 

Molly. No, no ! — Oh, Kit, can't you guess ? 

Brent. Well, I've been through all the starters, 
and there's only— ha, ha ! By Gad, you don't mean 
me ? 

s Molly {very gravely, as she leans towards him over 
the table.) Yes, you ! 

Brent (roaring with laughter, as he rises and crosses 
R.). Oh, I say, that's priceless — the greatest compli- 
ment I've ever had paid to me ! Ha, ha ! 

Molly. They suspect Mrs. Lee, as well. 

(All the laughter dies from Brent's face — he becomes 
suddenly grave.) 

Brent. Eh ? (He comes to the. bottom of the 
table.) Why do they drag in Mrs. Lee ? 

Molly. Oh, it's only guesswork so far. 

{She rises and faces him with just a suggestion of 

defiance.) 
But I can prove that she's a spy ! 

Brent (astounded). What ! 

Molly (below the table). Kit, you're in her power ! 

Brent (as if the suggestion were too ridiculous for 
words). My dear girl ! 

Molly. Oh, do tell me the truth ! • You 'told me 
that you'd never met Mrs. Lee before. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 119 

(Brent comes very close to her.) 

Brent. Look here, little woman, let's understand 
one another. You think that I'm in Mrs. Lee's 
power. You think that she's a German spy. What 
makes you think that ? 

(Molly turns away from him l.) 

Molly. I know it. 

Brent. How do you know it ? 

Molly {facing right about) . I found this in her room. 
{She takes a paper from her dress and hands it to him.) 
Do you know what it is ? 

Brent {non-committally) . It looks like a map. 

Molly. It is a map. It's the one that Carl 
Sanderson lost. 

(Brent looks steadily into her eyes as he gives the 
paper hack to her. Not all his love for her can keep 
from his voice a suggestion of half -incredulous 



Brent. And you — you stole it from Mrs. Lee's 
room. 

Molly {brokenly but defiantly^. Everything's fair 
in love and war. This is both love and war. 

Brent {after a brief pause). How did you know 
that Mrs. Lee had it ? 

Molly. I found out by an accident. When I 
passed Mrs. Lee's room, coming down to dinner, the 
door was open. As I stopped to speak to her, I 
noticed her take something — I thought it was a 
letter — from her dress, and slip it into a little drawer. 
I couldn't help noticing that she looked nervous 
and uncomfortable when she caught sight of me. I 
just wondered why— and that was all. But when 
father told me about Mr. Sanderson's loss, I remem- 
bered, and — well, you know the rest. 

Brent. So you — you think that I'm in this ? 

Molly. What else can I think ? 

Brent. What's your father going to do ? 



120 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Molly. If you can't clear yourself Oh, you 

know what father is ! — he'll go straight to the police 
and have you arrested. 

Brent (returning, for the moment, to his pose of good- 
natured noodle, as he turns down stage R.). I see. That 
would be awkward — very awkward and unpleasant. 

(Molly takes a step towards him.) 

Molly. Kit, you must tell me ! 

{After a pause, during which obviously he has been 
thinking hard, Brent comes back to the table.) 

Brent. Have you said anything to Mrs. Lee ? 

Molly. No. 

Brent. Then you mustn't. 

Molly. Why not ? 

Brent. I gave that paper to Mrs. Lee. 

(Molly steps back in horror.) 

Molly. You gave it to her ! . . . Knowing what 
it was ? 

(Brent turns away r. to avoid meeting her eyes.) 

Brent. Knowing what it was. 
Molly {with a piteous cry). Oh ! 
Brent {above the table and r. of it). But she didn't. 
She's quite innocent. 

(Molly stands in front of the chair l. of the table. 
She faces him.) 

Molly. Then it's true. You are a spy ! 

(Brent's silence gives consent to the accusation.) 

(Molly sinks into the chair beside her. Her head 
drjjops upon her arms, outstretched upon the table. 
She weeps violently.) 

(There comes a pause, during which Brent's resolution 
is badly shaken.) 

(He braces himself to suffer the ordeal, and, moving 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 121 

across the stage c. down l. to her, he lays his hand 

upon her shoulder.) 
(With a sudden convulsive movement, Molly sits erect, 

her clenched fists pressed to her temples. Suddenly 

she flings them down on to her knees.) 

Molly Kit, I don't believe you. You're not 
telling me the truth. You're saying this to shield 

her. 

Brent {down l. oj her). iNo, no ! 

(Molly springs to her feet and faces him.) 
Molly. I'm just beginning to understand. Tell 

me the truth 

(The door opens and Miriam comes in. She is alto- 
gether unaware ^of the turn that things have taken 
and is in radiant mood.) 

How long have you known Mrs. Lee ? 

Miriam {brightly). Talking about me? 
{She drops down R. of the table.) 
Molly. Yes. I was asking Mr. Brent to tell me 
truthfully, exactly how long he has known you. 

Miriam. Oh. I can answer that. Let's see now— 
{She counts on her fingers oblivious of B^^^t's warning 

glances.) 
One— two—three— four— five— six— yes ; twenty-six 

hours. ^, . • ,.4. I 

Molly {at c. below the table). That isn t true ! 

Miriam. Really! {She catches Brent's eye at 
last.) Is anything the matter ? 

Brent Mr. Sanderson has lost some valuable 
papers, and they have been traced to— to one of us. 

Miriam {beginning to grasp the position). Uh . 

Molly. They were found in your room. 

Brent. Yes," they were those I gave to you. 

{There is a tense silence, broken at length by Miriam 



122 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

with a little laugh. From, now until the end of 
the scene she adopts the role of adventuress, and plays 
it for all it is worth.) 

Miriam. I see. And you, you dear, chivalrous 
person, have let it be thought, I suppose, that you 
stole them. 

(Molly looks at Brent. Miriam sends a hasty signal 
to Brent to leave the situation to her. He obeys — 
but only with very great reluctance.) 

How perfectly delicious of you ! 

Molly. Mr. Brent says that he took the papers, 
and that he gave them to you — but that you had no 
idea at all what they were. He's just told me. 

Miriam. Yes ; I'm sure he has. 

[All the antagonism of primitive woman for her rival 
burns in Molly's breast. She turns upon Miriam 
almost savagely.) 

Molly. What do you mean ? Why do you talk 
of him like that, as if he — belonged to you ? {She 
goes right up to her.) I want to know what it means 
— what is Kit to you ? 

Miriam. One of my very oldest friends. 

(Molly turns immediately to Brent.) 

Molly (accusingly). You told me that you had 
never met Mrs. Lee before ! 

Miriam. Yes, because I asked him to. 

Molly. I was speaking to you, Kit. Can't 
you answer for yourself ? 

Miriam. I shouldn't advise it — if you want to 
hear the truth. 

(Once more does Molly turn upon her. Her eyes 
flash fire.) 

Molly. You mean he'd lie to me. 1 don't 
believe it ! (She appeals to Brent.) Would you 
lie to me. Kit ? 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 123 

Brent {awkwardly). No, no, of course, I 

Miriam. He's lying now. 

(Brent moves up stage l. over to the Chesterfield.) 

Molly {to Miriam— furiously) . Oh, how dare you ? 
How dare you say that ? 

(Miriam's answering smile is compound of pity and 
contempt. It is the smile that the woman of the 
world bestows upon the ingenue who has come into 
conflict with the facts of life for the first time, and is 
incredulous and resentful of them. She moves slowly 
over towards Molly, and half sits upon, half leans 
against the table c, facing the audience. She speaks 
in the same indulgent tone that she might employ in 
dealing with a fractious child.) 

Miriam. Because it happens to be true. Mr. 
Brent, Miss Preston, is one of those strange men who 
would sooner commit almost any crime than give a 
woman away. They count that the one unpardon- 
able sin. Funny, isn't it ? And very rare — but I" 
don't know where women like me would be without 
them. 

(Brent, up l.c, above the table, gives an exclamation 
of impatience. His whole being rebels against the 
course that Miriam is adopting, but his common 
sense compels him to see that it is the one way for 
him out of an impasse. He falls into line with her, 
therefore, but it goes very much against the grain 
to have to do so.) 

Molly. You've got Kit in your power ! 

Miriam. A Httle, perhaps. . . . When ^/ou've 
grown to know as much of the world as I do. Miss 
Preston, you'll realize that any woman can get a 
man into her power so long as he likes her a little, 
and she can make him feel sorry for her. 

(Brent moves to the window.) 

Molly {pitifully). I don't understand. 



124 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miriam. I'll try to explain. It was in South 
Africa that I first met Mr. Brent. 
Molly. Ah ! So it was South Africa ! 

{She turns away and, crossing over to the fireplace, 
seats herself in the armchair beside it.) 

Miriam. I was married to a farmer in Rhodesia. 
Even to think of my married life makes me — brrr ! 
(She shudders.) Then Mr. Brent came along, and he 
was sorry for me. He gave me money so that I could 
run away. He got me work in Cape Town. But 
that wasn't sufficient. I was ambitious — I wanted 
to be rich. I wanted to live — really live ! I wanted 
excitement, and — oh, all the things that a woman like 
me does want. The opportunity came, and I took 
it. Then I wanted a dupe. I couldn't help thinking 
of Mr. Brent — I tried not to — but he looked the part 
so well. 

(Molly springs to her feet with an exclamation of 
anger and disgust.) 

Molly. Oh ! 

(Brent paces the stage, his nerves on edge.) 

Miriam. I made use of him. ^ It was so easy. He 
asked no question. He — he just believed in me. 

Molly. And if it hadn't been for me, you'd have 
gone on using him. 

Miriam. I suppose so. 

Molly. He was ready to take your guilt upon 
himself. Why didn't you let him ? 

Miriam. Because it w^ouldn't have saved me. 
Otherwise 

{She shrugs her shoulders, and turns away R. towards 
the desk. Brent comes to the top of the table.) 

Molly, I think you must be the wickedest woman 
in the world. 

Brent. No, no, Molly, please ! 

Molly {turning upon him in amazement and indigna- 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 125 

Hon). Kit ! You'd still stand up for her ? — after 
what she's said ! 

Miriam. Oh, don't be cross with him. I think 
it's really rather beautiful. 

(A pause. Brent moves nearer to the door.) 

Well, have you got the handcuffs, Miss Preston ? 
. . . No ? . . . Then hadn't you better go and tell 
Mr. Sanderson that you've found the spy, and that 
she's quite re^dy to confess to him ? 

(Molly hesitates. She moves towards Brent, looking 
towards him for guidance.) 

Miriam. Oh, no, you mustn't take him with you. 
You must ask him to keep guard over me. Other- 
wise what's going to stop me from escaping ? 

Molly {ignoring her completely). Shall I go, Kit ? 

Brent {very uncomfortably as he opens the door for 
her). Yes, dear, I — I suppose you'd better. 

(Molly goes out.) 

{The moment that the door has closed upon her, Brent 
hastens down to L. of the table, and cxclaim.s with 
really deep feeling — )J 

Oh, Miriam, Vv^hat have you done ? 

Miriam. The only thing that could be done. 

Brent (before the fireplace). Gad ! It was mag- 
nificent ! — But why ? 

Miriam {as she crosses to him). Sh ! . . . Tell me, 
who found the plan in my room ? 

Brent {with reluctance). Molly ! 

Miriam. I thought so ! D'you know% Kit, I'd 
sooner be up against almost any antagonist than a 
girl in love. 

Brent. What beats me is why you left the plan 
about. Why didn't you lock it up ? 

Miriam. Experience has taught me that the best 
way to hide a thing is to leave it about. In ninety- 



120 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

nine cases out of a hundred it succeeds. This 
happens to be the hundredth. 

Brent. But why defend me ? 

Miriam. It had to be done. If the^^'d taken you 
away, what would have happened to all of us ? 

Brent. They couldn't have touched me. 

Miriam. Yes, they could. Preston's a magis- 
trate. He'd have had you arrested on suspicion. 
(She moves over to the table and sits down,) You 
couldn't have done anything before the morning, 
and then it would have been too late. 

Brent. But it's going to be so deucedly unpleas- 
ant for you ! {He paces tip and doitm stage l.) My 
God, what are we going to do ? 

(.4 possible " way out " occurs to him. He leans over 
the table towards Miriam and lays his han&on hers. 
There is suppressed excitement in his voice.) 

Miriam, you remember me once telling you that the 
German spy system is arranged in such a way that one 
spy may meet another without having any idea of it ? 

.Miriam (ponderingly) . Well? 

Brent. Well — that's all you want to know ! 

(A sudden comprehension comes to Miriam. SJie lays 
Iter disengaged hand upon his.) 

Miriam. Kit ! 

Brent. Are you sure of 3'ourself ? Can 3;ou do 
it ? 

Miriam. Trust mc. 

Brent. I will. 

{He returns to the fireplace.) 

{The door opens and Carl comes in.) 

Carl. I understand that you have something to 
say to me, Mrs. Lee. 
Miriam. Yes. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 127 

(Carl moves over to the windows, and draws the curtains 
across them. Miriam turns to Brent.) 

Leave us together, will you ? 

(Brent bows, and 'goes out immediately.) 

(Carl advances down stage to r.c. below the table.) 

(Miriam is at l.c. below the table, her back half-turned 
to the audience. These positions are retained to 
the fall of the curtain.) 

Carl. So you're the spy. 

Miriam. Docs it surprise you ? 

Carl. Not altogether. But— well, I'm very sorry. 

Miriam. Why ? 

Carl. I don't like fighting against women. 

(.4 pGMse.^ Miriam merely shrugs her shoulders. 

Carl seems to be making up his mind, and eventually 

continues, imth resolution-.) 
Look here, I'll make things easy for you, if you'll 
be quite square with me. 

Miriam. What does that mean ? 

Carl. One of the documents that I lost has been 
recovered. There are others. Where are they ? 

Miriam {smiling quietly). Beyond your reach. 

Carl.. That remains to be seen. Where are they ? 

Miriam. I'm sorry that I can't give you precise 
information— but they're somewhere in Germany. 

Carl (utterly flabbergasted). In——? But ! 

Look here, who the- devil are you ? 

Miriam. One of the Fatherland's most humble, 
but m.ost devoted servants. 

Carl. But— Mein Gott !— you surely can't mean 

that— that— you— we ? .' . . Well, I'll be 

dammed ! 

Tfie Curtain Falls. 

(Follows a brief interval of one moment to mark the 
passage of time.) 



SCENE II 

Scene. — The same. Three hours have passed. 

(Brent, Preston and Pennicuik occupy the room. 
Pennicuik, who sits in the chair at the head of the 
table , facing l., is already in possession of a whisky- 
and-soda. His rifle is propped against the table, 
and his " British Warm " hangs upon the chair l. of 

it.) 

(Preston has established himself upon the Chesterfield, 
and is holding out his glass to Brent, who stands 
behind the couch and beside the small table at the back 
of the stage L., about to squirt the soda into it.) 

Brent. Say when ! 

Preston. Whoa! Whoa! Thank ye! Mustn't 
drown the miller, you know. 

(Brent turns back to the table, and puts the siphon down 
upon it. He helps himself to a drink. Preston 
lifts his glass in the direction of Pennicuik.) 

Well, here's good luck to you, my boy. 

Brent {doing likewise). By Jove, yes — chin-chin, 
General. 

Pennicuik. Thanks very much. Chin-chin. 

{They pause for refreshment.) 

Pennicuik {putting his glass upon the table). I say, 
you know, you have bowled me out about Mrs. Lee. 
I simply can't get over it. 

Preston. No ; bit of a shock, isn't it ? 

Brent. Bit of a shock ! If you only knew what 
an almighty ass I feel ! 

Preston {chuckling). Yes, she had you all right, 
128 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 129 

Brent. Very clever the way she played you up — 
very clever ! 

Brent. H'm ! Well, it's taught me a lesson I 
shan't forget. 

{Warning clock strike.) 

Pennicuik. What are they going to do with her ? 

(Preston rises and drops down stage l. to the fireplace.) 

Preston. Don't think they've decided at present, 
Sanderson seems inclined to hush the matter up. 

(Brent takes Preston's place upon the Chesterfield.) 

Pennicuik. But he can't do that — surely ? 

Preston. Oh well, I don't know, you know. It's 
very awkward — a woman, and all that sort of thing. 

Brent. I can't help thinking that Sanderson's 
right. He's got his papers back. She's been found 
out. She can't do any more damage down here. 

Pennicuik. No, not dowTi here, perhaps. But 
what's to prevent her playing exactly the same game 
somewhere else ? 

Preston. Yes, yes. There is that to be thought 
of. 

Pennicuik. One can't afford to be chivalrous in a 
case of this sort. There's too much at stake. For 
the sake of sparing one woman you may sacrifice the 
lives of a hundred thousand men. 

Preston. I think you're putting it a little 
strongly, Pennicuik, but, at the same time, I can't 
help feeling there's a lot in what you say. I must 
mention it to Sanderson. But in any case there's 
nothing to be done until the morning. 

{The clock in the hall outside strikes the half-hour.) 

Preston. Hullo ! What's that ? 
Brent {facetiously). Don't you know ? That's a 
clock. 

(Preston smiles painfully and consults his watch.) 

I 



130 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Preston. Half -past eleven ! Gracious me, I 
must be off. {Moves over to Pennicuik.) " Early 
to bed," you know — that's always been my motto. 
{He shakes hands with him.) Good-night to you, my 
boy. I hope you've got a good thick coat with you. 
You'll find it a bit chilly on the cliff, you know. 

(Pennicuik, who rose from his chair when he shook 
hands with Preston, pushes it under the table. 
He picks up his coat, drops down stage L. and stands 
before the fireplace as he puts it on.) 

Pennicuik. Oh, I shall be all right, thanks. 
Preston {at the door). Good-night, Brent. 

(Brent crosses to him, and shakes hands.) 

Preston. I'm very glad to find that I was mis- 
taken about — er — you know ... I owe you — er 

Brent. Well, let's settle up in the morning, 
shall we ? 

Preston {mystified). Eh ? 

Brent {with his blandest smile). Good-night. 

Preston. Um — er — um — good-night. 

{He goes out much puzzled.) 

(Brent closes the door behind him, and turns the key 
in the lock. Pennicuik looks at him in amazement . 
He does not recognize the alert and authoritative 
individual who now addresses him.)-- 

Brent. Now, Pennicuik ! 

Pennicuik. I say- ! 

Brent {dozmi stage r. below the table). You want 
to know why I locked the door. I'm just going to 
tell you. Do you know anything about wireless 
telegraphy ? 

Pennicuik {moving c. to the table). No, but 

Brent. Wait a minute. You've read in the 
papers of course about the use that German spies 
are making of it in this country ? 

Pennicuik. Yes. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 131 

Brent. You know, too, that they're up to all 
sorts of dodges to coQceal it. 

Pennicuik. Yes. 

Brent. Ever seen one of 'em ? 

Pennicuik. No. 

Brent. Like to ? 

Pennicuik. Yes. 

Brent. Right. 
(He crosses over to the fireplace and touches the spring 

that reverses the grate. The Marconi apparatus 

comes into view. Pennicuik starts hack in amaze- 
ment.) 

Pennicuik. Good Lord ! Have you told Sander- 
son about it ? „ , ^ -^ 

Brent. No need to. He knows all about it. 

It's his. 

(.4 shadorj of perplexity crosses Pennicuik's brow, 
then he looks relieved.) 
Pennicuik. His ? . . . Oh, I see— an Admiralty 

thing. 

(He takes.- a step forward.) 

Brent. No. 

Pennicuik {stepping back again). But you can t 

mean ? , ^ . 

Brent I do Carl Sanderson's a German spy , 
so is his mother, so is Fritz ; and so is Fraulem 
Schroeder. , ^ ., 

Pennicuik. Good God ! . . . What about Mrs. 

Lee ? ■ # , -, • -^u 

Brent. That's all blufi. She's workmg vaih me. 

Pennicuik. Then you ? 

Brent Lm on their track. To satisfy yoursell 
that Lm telling the truth, just cast your eye over 
these. 
{He takes some official-looking papers from his pocket 

and passes them to Pennicuik— f/?^n swings the 

grate hack into its accustomed position.) 



132 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Pennicuik {looking up from the papers and speaking 
as though in the presence of his superior officer). 
By Jove, sir. I'd no idea^ 

{He hands the papers back to Brent and comes auto- 
maiically to attention.) 

Brent {as he hastens up stage l. to the door). Of 
course you hadn't. It would have shewn that I 
didn't know my business if you had. 

{He tmlocks the, door and comes down to the fireplace 
\ again.) 

'Now look here, Pennicuik, we're up against a very 
tough lot. There are big things going to be done 
to-night. Are you prepared to help ? 

Pennicuik {taking a step towards him). Give me 
the chance, sir. 

(Brent subjects him to a rapid and close scrutiny 
before he answers him abruptly.) 

Brent. I will. {He goes up to him.) The Sander- 
sons have arranged to burn this house to-night. 

Pennicuik. Good God ! Whatever for ? 

Brent. Signal to German submarines out in the 
harbour. 

Pennicuik {whistling). Whew ! 

Brent. You needn't worry. They won't manage 
it. But I shall. 

Pennicuik {amazed). Burn the hous^ ? 

Brent {laughing). No, no — send a signal. 

Pennicuik. What to, sir ? 

Brent. To a couple of British destroyers which'll 
be waiting in the harbour for those submarines. 

Pennicuik {with immense enthusiasm). By Gad ! 
That's fine ! 

(Brent moves over to the window, draws one of the 
curtains slightly aside, peers out into the night, and 
returns c. above the table.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 133 

Brent. It's the only way of letting 'em know 
when they'll come to the surface. Mustn't scare 'em 
with searchlights before then. . . . Have they taught 
you the Morse flash ? 

Pennicuik. More or less, sir. 

Brent. You can read it ? 

Pennicuik. I think so. 

(Brent takes from his waistcoat pocket the small 
electric lamp that he tised 'in Act I, and rapidly 
flashes him a word.) 

Brent. , What's this? 

Pennicuik. You're a bit too quick for me, sir. 

Brent. Right, I'll go slower. . . . Got it ? 

Pennicuik. I think so, sir. The word was 
" retire," wasn't it ? 

Brent. That'll do. (He goes back to the window.) 
In half an hour or so, you'll see somebody signalling 
from this window — by flash, of course. Don't 
worry, you'll know it's me. 

Pennicuik. Anything else, sir ? It's nearly time 
for me to relieve the sentry. 

Brent {down r. beloza the table). Anything else ? 
By George, I should think there is ! You're not 
keen on becoming a corpse just yet, I take it. 

(Pennicuik laughs lightly as he moves towards him.) 

Pennicuik. No, not exactly ! 

Brent. The Sandersons didn't mean to give you 
any option. 

Pennicuik (startled). Eh ? 

Brent. From your place on the cliff you might 
very easily have seen a flame and given the alarm 
before the house was properly alight. That wouldn't 
have suited their book at all. Sot it was arranged 
that Fritz should — well 

Pennicuik (aghast). What ! 

Brent. Make sure that you didn't. 

Pennicuik (under his breath). My God ! 



134 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Brent. They'll still attempt it, so you must keep 
your eyes open, and if anybody fails to answer your 
challenge, you must shoot at once — and shoot to kill 1 

Pennicuik. Look here,fsir, I simply don't know 
how to thank you. If it hadn't been for you 

Brent (up to window, pulls down-stage curtain aside, 
opens window). Don't you worry about that. You 
get off to your place, and see that you keep your 
eyes and ears well open. 

(He goes up to the window, and having drawn the 
down-stage curtain sufficiently aside to allow of 
Pennicuik's passage, opens the window.) 

Pennicuik (joining him at the window). You can 
trust me for that, sir. . . . Good luck to you. 
Brent. And to you. 

(Pennicuik goes out.) 

(Having closed the window, and readjusted the curtains. 
Brent crosses to the small table upon which he left his 
tumbler, and finishes his drink. Then he moves over 
to the fireplace, and having secured his pipe from the 
mantelpiece, strolls across to the table c, and selects 
a magazine to take to his room. He yawns prodigi- 
ously, gives a final glance round the room, and then 
turns to the door and switches out the lights. As 
he goes out of the room, Fritz enters it. They bump 
into one another. Fritz makes haste to conceal 
behind his back a box that he is carrying.) 

"Brent. Hello, Fritz! I'm just off to bed. 
Good-night. 

Frit^ (standing aside to let him pass). Good-night, 
sare. 

(He moves over to the small table R., lights the electric 
lamp that stands upon it, and carries it across to the 
table c. By the light that it throws he examines the 
box that he brought in with him. He opens it, looks 
into it and chuckles. The latch of the door clicks and 
he starts back with an exclamation of alarm.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 135 

Carl {standing in the doorway). Now then ! What 
the devil are you afraid of ? 

{He closes the door.) 
Fritz. Pardon, sare. Vot happen to-day it 
make me nervous. 
(Carl gives a mocking laugh, and switches on the light.) 

Carl. Tscha ! ... All gone to bed ? 
Fritz {as he carries an empty glass from the c. 
table to the small table l.). Every von. 
Carl. You're sure ? 
Fritz. Certain. 
Carl. The eye-glassed idiot ? 
Fritz. Shust now I meet 'im as 'e go up stairs. 

{He switches out the lamp upon the c. table.) 

Carl. Good ! 

{He walks over to the window, and peers through the 
curtains.) 

Now, about this fellow on the cliff— can you make 
sure ? 

Fritz. I make him sure. 

Carl. No noise ! 

Fritz. Oh no. {He makes a gesture as if stabbing 
a man.) Shust dat ! 

Carl {down r.c). That's it ! Car ready ? 

Fritz. Yes. 
{At the sound of approaching footsteps, Carl motions 

to Fritz to conceal himself behind the window 

curtains, and having switched out the lights, stands 

alert with his back to the wall, his hand iipon the switch. 

The door opens, and Mrs. Sanderson enters, 

followed by Fraulein Schroeder. They are 

dressed as for motoring.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. Oh ! He's not here. 

Carl. Yes, I am, mater. 

{He switches up the light again.) 



130 THii: MAN ^\'H() STAYIJD AT HOME. 

Mrs. Sanderson. Oh, what a start you gave me ! 

(Carl clicks his fingers, and Fritz comes out from 
behind the curtains.) 

Carl. Sorry, but I thought it might be somebody 
else. 

Mrs. Sanderson {at l.c). Is everything ready? 

Carl (down the stage r.). Yes. . . . Where's Mrs. 
Lee ? 

Mrs. Sanderson. In the car — waiting for us. 

(Fraulein moves across stage ifi front of the table 
to Carl.) 

Fraulein. Oh, she is wonderful, our new-found 
sister, so full of thought, so quick ! But an hour 
ago we tell her of our plan, and already she find for 
us an escort. 

(Mrs. Sanderson advances to l. of the table.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. An armed escort. 

Carl {amazed). Who ? 

Fraulein. Two friends she have had all the time 
near by — comrades with us in the great cause. 

Carl. Gad ! That's good work ! {He walks to 
the top of the table.) Fritz, glasses ! 

(Fritz brings from the small table by the door a tray 
containing a decanter and three liqueur glasses, and 
places it upon the centre table.) 

Fraulein {at r. of the table). I tell you, Carl, that 
she is wonderful — the chief of all of us. {She lays 
her hand upon the box by the lamp.) 

Carl {suddenly and with emphasis). Tcht ! You 
mustn't touch that ! 

(Fraulein steps back hastily.) 

Fraulein. How you make me to jump ! What 
is it ? 

Carl {as he pours the liquor from the decanter into 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 137 

the glasses). The incendiary bomb I was telling 
vou about. 

Mrs. S.-^nderson. It is set ? 

Carl. No, I shall time it to explode before I join 
you. 

{He turns to Fritz and signs to hini to bring another 
■ glass. Fritz obeys. He holds out the glass towards 

Carl, who fills it from the decanter.) 

{In silence the four turn towards the east — their faces 
to the window, their backs to the audience. In silence 
they raise their glasses, and drink a solemn toast.) 

(Carl is the first to break the spell. He turns back to 

the table, and places his glass upon the tray. The 

others folloiv his example.) 

Carl. Now you must leave me. 
{He comes down L.c. to Mrs. Sanderson, who takes his 

face between her hands, and drawijig down his head, 

kisses him upon the forehead.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. My son, for this night's work 
our Emperor will bestow upon you the Iron Cross. 
{The prospect does not seem to overwhelm Carl with 

enthusiasm. He lifts his mother's hands from his 

shoulders, and draws away from her.) 

Carl. You really must go. It's getting very 
near the time. 
{She advances to the door and turns to him again.) 

Mrs. Sanderson. I go, my son. The Good God 
be with you. 

Fraulein {as she joins Mrs. Sanderson). Auf 
wiedersahn. 

Carl. Auf wiedersehn. 

(Fritz holds open the door, and Mrs. Sanderson and 
Fraulein Schroeder go out.) 

(Fritz closes the door and Carl turns to him.) 



138 THE MAN^WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Carl. You'd better be getting busy. 
Fritz {at the door). Now ? 
Carl [down stage L.c). As soon as you like. 
Fritz. I go then, now — to Meester Pennicuik 
... Ha ! 

{He chuckles and goes out.) 

(Carl is left alone upon the stage. He looks at his 
watch, then crosses to the door and switches out the 
lights. From there he moves over to the windows, 
draws the curtains, and throws the windows open. 
After gazing out to sea for a few seconds he comes 
hack into the room, and, going down to the desk, takes 
a pair of binoculars from one of the drawers. He 
returns to the verandah and sweeps the sea with them. 
His ears, quickened by apprehension, detect the 
sound of somebody approaching. He wheels about . 
and tip-toes down to the desk as swiftly and as 
silently as a cat. Having replaced the glasses in 
the drawer, he snatches the lamp from the centre 
table, and puts it back in its original position. He 
hastens over to the standard lamp in the corner 
l., extinguishes it, and crouches doiun behind the 
armchair.) 

(Brent enters very quietly by the door. He is in his 
pyjamas, with a light bath robe thrown over them. 
His hair is ruffled, but his eyeglass is still glued 
firmly in his eye. His general appearance ivould 
lead one to suppose that he had gone to bed, Jiad been 
unable to sleep, and had come down in search of a 
book. He finds his xvav by the aid of an electric torch. 
Having closed the door, lie pauses and casts the light 
around the room.) 

(A sudden turning of the lamp rays on to his own 
features indicates thai he has observed Carl's presence. 
He strolls leisurely over to the zmndow, props himself 
against it, and flashes his message, saying in amused 
tone, as he makes an end of it — ) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME 139 

Brent. Poor old Pennicuik ! 

(Carl springs erect and covers him with a revolver.) 

Carl {at l.c.) Hands up ! 

(Breis^t wheels about to face him. He flashes the 
torchlight on to Carl with his left hand, and in the 
same [moment turns on the switch by the door with 
his right. The stage is fully illuminated.) 

Brent. Good Lord ! How you startled me ! 

{He lowers his hands.) 

Carl. Keep 'em up, or you're a dead man ! 

Brent {obeying with an idiotic grin). Not really ! 

Carl. You hound ! {He moves rapidly to c. 
above the table.) So you are a spy, after all ! 

Brent {knowingly). Oh, no, you don't. I've 
been had with that once to-day, already. 

{He endeavours to lower his hands again.) 

Carl. Keep 'em up ! . . . That sort of monkeying 
may be very clever, but it's no use to you now, my 
friend. 

Brent. Look here ! 

Carl. Tell me quickly, what were you up to ? 

Brent. I do wish you'd let me put this bally 
torch down. Lm getting the most horrible cramp. 

Carl. Put it down here. {He taps the table with 
the muzzle of his revolver.) 

(Brent does so, and turns down stage R.) 

Brent. Thanks — thanks most awfully. {He 
shivers.) Br-r-r ! DeviUsh cold in this kit. {His 
hands stray towards the pockets of his dressing-gown.) 

Carl {down l.). Oh, no, you don't ! . . . Put 
'em up ! 

Brent. Look here, I'm sick of these Swedish 
exercises ! 

Carl. Put 'em up ! 

Brent. Oh, all right. 



140 THE MAN WHO (STAYED AT HOME. 

Carl. Now then, what were you signalling for? 

Brent. • Signallin' ! {He chuckles delightedly). 
How did you guess I was signallin' ? 

Carl. It's not a bit of use trying to fool me, my 
friend. 

Brent. But I have fooled you ! By Gad, it's a 
bit of a score takin' you in as well. 

Carl. What the devil d'you mean ? 

Brent. I say, do let me put my hands down — 
then I'll tell you. 

Carl. All right — but keep 'em away from your 
pockets. . . . Now then. 

(Brent's hands stray towards his pockets, but at a sharp 
word from Carl he quickly draws them away.) 

Brent. Well, you won't say anythin' about it at 
breakfast, will you ? 

Carl {irritably). No, I won't say anything about. 

Brent. You know young Pennicuik's out on the 
cliff there ? 

Carl. Yes. 

Brent. Well, he was braggin' to-day about 
signallin', and I said I didn't believe he'd had time to 
get the subject up, and so to prove it I — I just sent 
him a 

Carl (quickly). A message. You understand it, 
then ? 

Brent {immensely delighted). Oh, no ! Oh, no ! 
That's where the joke comes in. I don't. I only 
knew the first seven letters. I've sent him a spoof 
signal, but I'll bet you what you like that he'll 
pretend to-morrow that he understood it. {He 
chuckles' gleefully.) Poor old Pennicuik ! 

Carl [relieved). Oh, so that's it, is it ? . . . 
Well, if I were you I should think twice before I 
played that sort of prank again. At times like these 
it's liable to be misunderstood. 

Brent. But — er 

Carl. Damned dangerous, in fact. 



THE AL\>^ WHO STAYED AT HOME. 141 

Brent. By Jove, now — is it really ? D'you 
know I never thought of that. 
Carl. You wouldn't. 

{A pause during which neither man moves.) 

Well, hadn't you better be getting back to bed ? 

Brent {turning up stage r.). Yes, that wouldn't 
be a bad idea, but — {He turns hack again) — half a 
jiffy. There's a little question that I want to put 
to you. 

Carl {impatiently!). What is it ? 

Brent. What the deuce are 3/ou doin' with that 
revolver ? And why the blazes do you cover a 
harmless person like me ? 

Carl {a trifle disconcerted). In my work. Brent, 
I have to guard myself against all emergencies. 

Brent {advancing to the table c). But I'm not an 
emergency. 

Carl. Perhaps not — but 

(Brent catches sight of the box upon the table. His 
attention is seemingly diverted.) 

Brent. Hullo ! What the devil's that ? 

Carl {zoith an inspiration). That — that, Brent, is 
the reason I am armed. 

Brent. Is it indeed ? I say, how awfully 
interestin' ! 

Carl. This is not the first time that one of those 
devilish contrivances has found its way into this 
house. 

Brent. " Devilish contrivances !"...! say, you 
know, that's an awfully hard name to call such an 
innocent-lookin' little box. 

Carl. It may look innocent enough, but — 
{im.pressively) — Mr. Brent, the safety of this house 
has been threatened by an unseen hand. In that 
box is an infernal machine ! 

Brent. God bless my soul, you — you don't say 
so. 



142 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

{He backs away from the table ivith an admirable 
assumption of fear.) 

(Carl advances to the table, and lifts the lid of the 
box.) 

Carl. Come and look for 3/ourself. 

(Brent backs away from the table R., raising the 
collar of his dressing-gown to shield his face.) 

Brent. No, no, no, no — not for the world ! . . . 
I say, you don't think the damned thing'll go off ? 
Carl. Not at present, but 

(The gleam of a strong searchlight illuminates the room.) 

What the devil's that ? 

Brent. I say, that's a fine rocket, isn't it ? 

Carl. Rocket be damned ! That's a searchlight 
— and you know it ! Where's it come from ? 

Brent {lamely). I don't know. 

Carl {covering him again with his revolver). Look 
here, Brent, I'm not satisfied. 

Brent. I say — pardon my nervousness — but I 
do wish you wouldn't point that — that damn thing 
at me. 

Carl. Hands up ! 

Brent. No, damn it ! — not again ! 

Carl. Hands up ! I'm going to make sure. 

(Brent puts his hands up. Carl comes up to him at 
r.c. bcloiv the table. He keeps him covered with 
his revolver the while he searches him. There is a 
revolver in the pocket of Brent's dressing-gown. 
Carl finds it.) 

Carl. So that's it, is it ? 

Brent {quite coolly, discarding immediately his 
affected manitev). That's it. 

(Carl takes a step back — a revolver in each hand.) 

Carl. Gad ! You're a cool-blooded customer. 



THfe MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME 143 

Brent. One can afford to be cool-blooded when 
one's going to win. 

Carl. Going to win, eh ? In a few moments, my 
friend, you'll be cold mutton. 

Brent. Nasty simile ! May I have a last smoke ? 

{He fishes out his cigarette-case.) 

Carl. By all means. 
Brent. Thanks. {He lights up.) 
Carl, Smoking under fire, eh ? It shall be duly 
recorded in your obituary notice. 
Brent. So you intend to shoot m.e ? 
Carl. Most certainly. 

{He lavs his own revolver on the L. of the table down 
stage, a7td keeps Brent covered with the one that 
he discovered in searching him.) 

But before I do you will oblige me by telling me 
what the hell those searchlights mean. 

{During the whole of this scene, and until the end of the 
play, the room is lit up, intermittently, by the beams 
of searchlights.) 

Brent: I shall be delighted to do so. But you're 
not going to shoot me, you know. 

Carl. Indeed ! And why not, pray ? 

Brent. For the simple reason that 3rou'd rouse 
the house, and that, I fancy, is the last thing you wish 
to do. 

Carl. Oh ! So you know that, do you ? 

Brent. Yes, and quite a lot of other interesting 
things as , well. Diplomacy and espionage are 
amusing recreations for the man who has to stay at 
home. 

Carl. By Gad, you're a plucky chap ! I've 
half a mind to give you a run for your money. 

Brent. My dear Herr von Mantel, son of General 
von Mantel, and paid spy of the German Government, 
that's very generous of you, but I haven't the least" 



144 THE MAX WHO STAYED AT PIOME. 

intention of leaving you alone with that ! {H.c points 
to the bomb.) It might injure a lot of innocent people. 
It's a recognized method of warfare in your country, 
I know. But I really cannot permit, you to exercise 
such methods here. 

{He makes a movement forward towards the table.) 

Carl (fiercely). Stop where you are ! . . . No 
nonsense, or I'll drop you with one of your own 
bullets ! 

Brent. And they say the Germans have no sense 
of humour. 

(The sound of a big gun is heard out at sea. Carl 

rushes up to the windoivs. Brent crosses swiftly 

to the table and picks up Carl's revolver. Carl 
turns from the window.) 

Carl. By God, you ! 

(The two men face one another with levelled revolvers.) 

n ., . • Carl. 

Posihons: .Brent. 

Brent (at l.) Shall we call it stale-mate ? Hein !. 
Carl. Stale-mate be damned ! Here goes for 
both of us ! 

(He moves swiftly down to the table c, and aims point 
blank at the bomb. The hammer of his revolver 
clicks, but there is no report.) 

Brent (smiling broadly). Check, in fact ! . . . 
A loaded revolver, my dear von Mantel, is a bad 
weapon in the hands of a diplomatist. I never carry 
one. 

(Carl drops the useless weapon on the table.) 

Sorry to trouble you — but do you mind crossing to 
your very interesting fireplace, and putting up your 
hands ? 

(Carl growls, and makes a sudden dart forward. It 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME 145 

is in Ins mind to fling himself upon Brent a}id 
overpower him. But his opponent's knowledge of how 
to rise a revolver is evident, as also his determination 
to employ that knowledge in an emergency, and he is 
dissuaded from his purpose.) 

{He moves sullenly over to the fireplace.) 

Carl. Why the devil don't you shoot me ? 

{Before Brent can reply the voice of Pennicuik is 
heard to challenge somebody outside.) 

Pennicuik {off). Halt ! {A second.' s silence — and 
then again) Halt ! 

{The sound of a rifle shot succeeds.) 

Carl. What's that ? 

Brent. A full stop, I hope, put to the dangerous 
career of Master Fritz ! 
Carl. Pennicuik ! 

Brent. Yes, quite a crack shot, they tell me 

{Again Carl makes as if to fling himself upon him.) 

No, no, I shouldn't move if I were j-ou. 

(A tense silence is broken by the dull boom of naval 
guns. Carl stirs uneasily.) 

Brent. Like to know, what that is ? ... No ? 
. . . Well, it's nothing very exciting. ... A little 
practice for our gunners at a moving target. 

Carl. God ! So that's it ! Your signals ! 

Brent. You've got it. Submarines, you know, 
are tricky things to hit. 

{Maddened by rage and mortification, Carl springs 
forward.) 

Brent {extending his revolver so that it points 
straight at Carl's heart). Stand still ! 

Carl. For God's sake shoot me, and have done 
with it ! 

K 



14f> TfTE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

{From just outside the ivindow somebody gives the 
command "halt!'' Rifle butts are grounded on 
the verandah. Corporal Atkins comes into 
the room. Drawn up on the verandah behind him 
stand two private soldiers.) 

Atkins (to one of the soldiers). Guard that door. 

(The soldier marches over to the door, and stations 
himself in front of it.) 

(Atkins advances towards Brent, stops within a few 
paces of him, comes smartly to attention, and salutes.) 

Private Pennicuik's told us what's up, sir. 

Br[-:nt (indicating Carl). A German spy. Arrest 
him. 

Atkins {to soldiers). Escort — your prisoner. 

(The two soldiers place themselves on either side of 
Carl.) 

Brent (to Atkins at r.c). Got your other man 
all ^'ight ? 

Atkins. Wounded, sir. On his way to hospital. 

(Voices are heard about the house.) 

Carl (not wishing to be seen by the others). For 
God's sake, Brent ! 

Brent. All right. (He turns to Atkins.) Here, 
you'd better take this bomb with you. 

(Atkins starts back in alarm. The " Tommies " 
grin broadly.) 

Oil, it's all right. It's not set. 

(Atkins has observed the smiles of ^ the escort. He 
extinguishes them with a look.) 

Atkins (to soldiers). Prisoner and Escort. Right 
— tu-r-r-u ! , Quick — m^rr-r-r-ch ! 

(Carl and the soldiers file out by the window.) 

(Atkins follows, carrying the bomb.) 



Tin-: MAX WHO STAYED AT HOME. 147 

{TJic door is flung open and Molly rushes info the 
room. She is in her night-attire , with a wrap hastily 
flung over it. Her hair is uncontrolled and streams 
over her shoulders. She hastejis down to Brent in 
affright, and clings to him.) 

Molly. Kit ! Kit ! What is it ? What is it ? 
Brent {soothing her). There, there. It's all 
right, little woman. 

(Preston enters. He wears an ordinary overcoat 
over his nightshirt. He comes down in his accus- 
tomed pompous fashion R. of the table.) 

Preston. Now, sir ! What's all this mean ? 

(Miss Myrtle in flannelette nightdress and Jaeger 
dressing-gown, her scanty locks twisted into pathetic 
pigtails, hurries into the room, carrying a lighted 
candle. She patters down to Preston and clings to 
li im h yst eric ally . ) 

Miss Myrtle. It's the Germans ! It is indeed ! 
They" Ye captured Mr. Sanderson ! I saw them from, 
ra}' window. 

Preston (disengaging himself). Don't be a fool, 
woman. . . . Now, Brent. 

(Miss Myrtle collapses into the armchair l. of the 
fireplace.) 

\>K \ . it's quite simple. We'YC just bagged 
the lot^spies, you know. 

Preston. But- — - 

i)REN'T. The Sandersons, Fritz and Fraulein 
bciu-oeder. 
> Preston. B= ' 

AloLLY. And i\irs. Lee ? Have they taken her ? 

i)RENT. No ; she's taken them. 

i ' RE S TON . But — 

.'ioLLY. I don't understand, Kit. 

Brent. Two detectives shadowed Sanderson down 
from London this morning. That's the escort that 
Mrs. Lee has provided for them. 



148 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Miss Myrtle. But those guns — those dreaciful 
guns ! 

Brent. They're ours— a httle game with German 
submarines. 

Molly. And we owe all this to y6u ? 

Brent. Oh, it's nothing. It happened to come 
my way. I couldn't explain before. 

Molly {crossing to l.). Oh, Kit ! {She goes up 
to her father.) And that's the man we all sneered at 
because he stayed at home. 

Preston. But 

Miss Myrtle {who has risen and moved l.c. — 
almost in the smne breath). But 

Preston {rounding on her). Damn it ! — I will 
be heard ! Don't stand shivering there, woman ! 
You'll catch your death a-cold. Go back to bed ! 

{He pushes her towards the door.) 

Miss Myrtle." There'll be no more sleep for me 
to-night. 

Preston. Nonsense ! Tuck yourself up and try. 

{He thrusts her out of the room, and turns to Brent.) 

Now, Brent 

{Hardly has he got the words out of his mouth before 
an ear-piercing yell comes from outside, and Miss 
Myrtle is heard calling hysterically — ) 

Miss Myrtle {off). Mr. Preston ! Mr. Preston ! 

Preston. Confound the woman ! {He opens the 
door again and calls to her.) Confound the woman ! 
What is it ? 

Miss Myrtle. My candle's gone out. I'm all 
in the dark. 

Molly. Daddy, you must go to the rescue. 

(Preston explodes! in 41 stupendous "oh" and exits 
by the door.) 

{There is a slight pause during which their voices are 
heard " off" in dispute.) 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 149 

Molly {at l.c). Oh, Kit ! How funny you look ! 
Brent. How topping you look ! 
Molly {mischievously). Don't you think we ought 
to have a chaperone ? 

Brent. Chaperone ? Chaperone be damned ! 

(He takes her in his arms.) 
The Curtain Falls 




150 



PROPERTY PLOT— ACT I. 

Plain brown stage carpet. 

Aubusson carpet. 

2 druggets. 

Skin rug at fire. 

Black rug at door. 

2 sconsors on wall p.s. 

Small oblong picture between sconsors p.s. 

Black and white drawing up-stage of mantel. 

Oblong picture over half-round table up-stage p.s. 

2 oval pictures either side of bookcase at back. 

2 sconsors on wall o.p. 

Mantelpiece. 

Revolving fireplace with Marconi apparatus. 

Fire : — laid. 

Fender. 

Fire-irons. 

Fire-stool. 

On mantel — 

2 upright vases. 

2 iigure vases. 

Clock. 

Push-hght cue for fireplace revolve. 

Matches and ash-tray. 
Grandfather armchair. 
Ott chair — 

Square cushion. 

Antimacassar over back of chair. 
Half-round table. 
On tabic — 

Bronze dancer. 

2 pictures in frames. 

T book. 

Standard lamp. 
In bookcase — 
' Picture in case. 

Books. 

Book rolled in red paper. 

Peed box. 

151 



152 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

Chin?, plalc. 
China shell (nnamcnt. 
Picture in frame of Carl. 
Bottom shelf — all books. 
Chesterfield — 

2 cushions, t square and i round ; antimacassar over back. 
Small oval tabic at back of Chesterfield. 
Flap-table on wall l. of door. 
Bell-push L. of door. Bell to ring outside. 
Key fixed in lock of door. Lock -to be in working order. 
Electric light swifch, R. of door, connected with cue light 

off, stage p.s. 
Palm in stand r. of door. 
2 long curtains on brass rod at windows. 
Cords attached to curtains for opening and shutting. 
Window catch. 

2 tip-up window seats either side of window. 
Small oblong table o.p. 
On table — 

Small portable lamp with green .shade. 
In up-stage dvaivcr of table — 

Binoculars. 
Writing desk. 
On desk — 

Matches and ash-tray. 
Bowl of roses. 
Reference books in case. 
Writing-materials in desk. 
Small. 
W.P.B. down stage l.iy desk. 
Small chair at desk. 
Oblong table at c. 

3 small chairs at table c, i at top and i either side. 
Top chair with padded seat. 
Table cover on table c. 
On table — 

Magazines a,nd newspapers. 
Small cfiairs, armchair, Chesterfield, curtains and window 

scats, all of same colour. 
Stick-gun standing by flap table l. of door. 

Off Stage. 

For Fraulein, eyeglasses. 
For Preston, eyeglasses in case, watch (own). 
For Miss Myrtle, knitting and small apron. 
For Daphne, small hand basket containing white feathers. 
For Miriam, despatch case containing official blue paper, 
and code book. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 153 

For Mrs. Sanderson, duplicate book, hand-bag. 
For Brent, pipe, pouch, pocket-book with pencil, small 
electric torch, morning racing paper. 

PROPERTY PLOT— ACT II. 

Furniture and dressing same as Act I. 
Stick-gun discovered by flap table. 

Off Sta-c. 

For Fraulcin, hand-bag, containing sketch-book, small bottle 

of tabloids, sealed and stamped envelope, knitting. 
For Miriam, magazine. 
For Fritz; afternoon papers, telegram on salver, duplicate 

handkerchief, carrier pigeon with message attached to 

leg. 
For Preston, handkerchief. 
For Carl, despatch vase. 
For Brent, parcel containing prop cigarettes and detectophone, 

rolled carder message, duplicate handkerchief with 

elastic attached. 

PROPERTY PLOT— ACT III. 

Scene i. . 

Furniture and dressing same as previous acts. 
Detectophone rolled and in box on table c. 

Off Stage. 

For Carl, 2 cigars in case^ papers in case, white handkerchief 

(own). 
For Fritz, blank carrier message. 
For Miss Myrtle, magazine. 
For Molly, map. 
For Brent, billiard cue. 

Scene 2. 

Furniture and dressing same as before. 
Stick-gun removed. 
Matches, and ash-tray on desk. 
Papers removed from table c. 
I magazine left on table c. 
On oval table behind Chesterfield — 
Tray containing : — 

Siphon of soda-water. 

Decanter of whisky. 

4 tumblers. 

I wine-glass. 



154 THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME. 

On flap tabic — 

Salver containing : — 
Decanter of liquor. 
3 small liqueur glasses. 
Rifle for Pennicuik on table c. 

Off Stage. 

For Fritz, bomb in box. 

For Carl, revolver. 

For Brent, revolver, large electric torch, cigarettes in case 

(own). 
For Miss Myrtle, candle in holder and matches. 
Three rifles for soldiers. 



LIGHTING PLOT. 
Act I, to open. 

Floats : — Circuit of white on resistance full up. 

Circuit of light amber full up. 
Ceiling batten : — Circuit of white on resistance full up. 

Circuit of light amber full up. 
Lengths : — i white above window on resistance. 

I light amber above window on resistance. 
I white on r. of window on resistance. 
I light amber on r. of window on resistance. 
I white on l. of window on resistance, 

1 light amber on l. of window on resistance. 

2 short white lengths over door. 
Fittings: — 4 2 -candle brackets in scene, not alight. 

I standard lamp up l., not ahght, 
I table lamp up r., not alight. 
. Wireless spark in order. 
Switch by door connected with signal light on 

switchboard. 
Push for Marconi attached to signal light for 
revolve. 
Arcs : — Focus No. 4 amber through window from r. 
J-^ipple circ on sea cloth. 

Act II, to open. 

Floats, batten and lengths as in Act I. 
Ripple arc as in Act I. 
Extra lengths — 

I dark amber or red over window {not alight). 

I ,, ,, R. of window {not alight). 

I ,, ,, ,L. of window {not alight). 

Arcs : — Focus Arc No. 4 amber from l. through window. 



THE MAN WHO STAYED AT HOME 155 

Al cue .•—Entrance of Molly—" Kit, father didn't want " 

Check as follows, occupying eight minutes. 

White in floats, batten and lengths on window slowly out 

When white half out, take light amber lengths slowly down 
to half, at same time bring up slowly dark amber lengths 
or red lengths and change focus arc to red or dark amber. 
Ripple remains on. 

At cue : — (Carl switches on light), white in floats and batten 
up full and four brackets alight. No alteration in lengths. 

Act III, Scene i, to open. 

Floats and batten as in Act I (possibly slightly checked). 

Length over door as in Act I. 

3 large blue lengths over window and down sides. 

W^all brackets alight. 

Moonlight ripple from arc on sea cloth. 

Flood blue arc on sea cloth. 

Act III, Scene 2. 
As for Act III, Scene i, but standard lamp up l. alight. 
Cue I (given by signal light). Exit Brent, enter Fritz. 

Floats, batten and brackets out. 
Cue 2 (given by signal hght). Entrance of Carl. 

Floats, batten and brackets in. 
Cue 3 (given by signal light). After Fritz gets behind curtain. 

Floats, batten and brackets out. 
Cue 4 [iriy/Qn by signal light). Exit of Mrs. Sanderson and 
Fraulein. 

Floats, batten and brackets in. 
Cue 5 (given by signal light). After exit of Fritz. 

Floats, batten and brackets out. 
Cue 6 (given by signal light). After " How you startled me." 

Floats, batten and brackets in. 
Standard lamp out as Carl switches it off. 
Table lamp worked by key switch on stage. 

Act III, Scene 2. 
Arc {Searchlight) Cues. 

1. Brent : — " You don't think the damned thing's going off, 

do you ? " — Searchlight quickly up on to sky and then 
dowTi across sea and off. 

2. Brent :—" So you're going to shoot me, are you?" — 

Searchlight moved slowly over sea twice and off.. 

3. Call off:—" Halt ! Halt ! "—Searchlight over sea until 

entrance of soldiers, then off. 



Butler &. Tanner, Fiome and London. 



